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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854091">Adulting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_urchin/pseuds/that_one_urchin'>that_one_urchin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Legacies (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, College AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Hope Mikaelson Has Panic Attacks, Humor, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Will They/Won’t They</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:27:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_urchin/pseuds/that_one_urchin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope can’t get any sleep because her neighbor is apparently a sex addict.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hope Mikaelson &amp; Penelope Park, Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park, Hope Mikaelson/Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman, Milton "MG" Greasley &amp; Hope Mikaelson &amp; Penelope Park, Milton "MG" Greasley/Lizzie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>541</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. before.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What is this unedited rambley mess I wrote well past midnight?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hope is used to being alone. </p><p>Lots of people had wanted to be her friend during elementary and middle school. Boys and girls would come up to her, bright-faced and eager, offering her anything they could to build a friendship. Toys, jokes, snacks sealed in ziplock bags. </p><p>Sometimes Hope wanted to be friends with them, sometimes she didn’t. Either way, it didn’t matter. They would get past the excitement of a new girl (who Hope always was, thanks to her family’s nearly constant moving) and figure out that Hope didn’t speak much, and when she did it came out jumbled. Words always felt awkward on her tongue, no matter how simple they were. Kids would listen to her try to get through a few sentences and lose interest. </p><p>Her appearance probably didn’t help much either. Worn-out sweaters brushing her thighs, skinny jeans dirty around the knees. Lots and lots of flannel. Things that would hide her curves, make her less interesting to the general public. </p><p>College is a fresh start - at least, that’s what everyone has been telling her. Teachers, far-away relatives, passing upperclassmen. It’s even up on motivational posters on the walls. Usually Hope wouldn’t buy into that kind of bullshit (anyone that painted another four years of school as anything short of hell had to be a dirty liar), but a day into the year and things were starting to feel different.</p><p>She gets an apartment within walking distance of the school. It’s a small place. One bedroom, a bathroom, and a little kitchen area. There’s no furniture except for the mattress Hope brought along with her, no silverware in the drawers, or food in the fridge, but it doesn’t matter. Hope gets to set what little things she has in that empty space, gets to turn and lock the door as soon as she steps inside.</p><p>This a new kind of alone. A clean, fresh type of alone that smells like carpet cleaner and air freshener. It’s nice. Hope almost feels as if it could turn her inside out, make her a better person in some way.</p><p> </p><p>After spending an hour rearranging the ten items she brought (the mattress, a flannel, two hoodies, a pair of jeans, two sets of underwear, and a phone charger) and mindlessly scrolling through her phone, Hope makes it a mission to go buy some new things. At least food, for now. She makes a list on her phone of what she’ll want and what she can afford, which isn’t much. </p><p>Her parents are paying her tuition and part of her rent, but the rest is up to her. It’s Hope’s job to make sure she doesn’t starve now. She kind of likes it. And hates it, because she’s hungry and she’ll have to go out if she wants anything. </p><p>She ends up walking around with her phone in her hand for a minute, probably looking like an idiot, while she tries to find the nearest grocery store. It turns out to be five minutes away, so Hope gets to walking. She digs her fingers into her shallow jean pockets for warmth, thumbs out and exposed, nails turning a faint purple at the cold. </p><p>At the grocery store, Hope has to work around the twenty bucks in her pocket. She gets water, toilet paper, bread, and cheese all from the discount aisle. Just the essentials, since she doesn’t want to overspend and not have money for other things later on. </p><p>It feels a little strange to do everything herself. She feels almost like a kid playing a part, going ‘ah, yes, I’m an adult and these are my adult groceries that I’m paying for with my adult money’, but at the same time she feels sort of grown-up. These are her crappy, slightly dented groceries. All hers. The thought makes her smile toothily at the ground while she stands in line for the register.</p><p>Hope pays quickly and is in and out of the store in less than ten minutes, walking back to her apartment with groceries piled in her arms and a grilled cheese on her mind. </p><p>The sidewalk is practically empty, but the streets are filled with cars rushing home to be on time for dinner. Hope can tell by the weather and the dim purple color of the sky that it’s going to get dark soon. The wind pushes and shoves at her nose, making it stiff with snot. She wishes that she had gotten tissues, but toilet paper will work for blowing her nose.</p><p>The word of the night becomes improvising. Hope has dinner with a paper towel plate, her grilled cheese not grilled but torn into two messy halves with her palms. She sits on her mattress while she eats, watching Netflix with her phone propped up on her shoe and plugged into the wall. Dinner that night is washed down with sink water - and Hope wouldn’t have it any other way. </p><p>All of the lights are off, the windows are closed and the door is locked. Hope feels surprisingly content, warm under the thick fabric of her hoodie. Her eyes are easily adjusting to the dark, head growing heavier with each episode of Friends that plays.</p><p>She feels accomplished. And, keeping the idea of being mature, Hope thinks she’ll turn in early so she can be ready for class tomorrow. </p><p>In the next few minutes (or hours), Hope loses track of time. She falls in and out of sleep, waking up frequently enough that it almost feels that she isn’t really sleeping at all. Her body feels so heavy that Hope is almost sure it could sink through the mattress to the floor and her screen has gone black with the Continue Watching? message, both clear signs that she should be passed out by now. </p><p>Except, it’s nearing two a.m. (Hope checks through squinted eyes) and every couple of minutes is broken up by a loud banging from the neighboring wall. </p><p>If she were a bolder, less anxious person than she would have gotten up to complain to her neighbor about it awhile ago, but she’s Hope. Which means she lays there, eyes on the blurry outline of her ceiling, her stomach in tangles as she tries to think of what she would possibly say. Eventually, after hearing another thud followed by some loud voices, Hope forces herself to sit up. </p><p>She has to hype herself up all the way to her neighbor’s door, unable to rid the nervous feeling crawling up her spine. </p><p>The hallway is colder than her room and the lights are too bright, so Hope knocks and then stands, waiting in an awkward position with her hands between her thighs for warmth. </p><p>“It’ll be fine, Hope.” She says aloud to herself, knowing how goddamn ridiculous she’s being but doing it anyways. “It’s just a conversation.” </p><p>A thousand scenarios are running through her head, none of them good. </p><p>Hope can hear footsteps approaching on the other side of the door and a muffled voice saying something along the lines of ‘hold on’. Suddenly, Hope is racing back into her own apartment, breathing heavily and staring into the darkness once again. Out in the hall, she can hear someone quietly moving around. Hope holds her breath until there’s an audible click and she’s sure that her neighbor went back into their apartment. </p><p>Feeling stupid and silly, Hope collapses on her mattress and groans into the spot where her pillow should be. </p><p>“I’m so lame.” Hope mumbles to herself, but her heartbeat is still quick at the thought of confronting another person.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning is an uneventful mash of firsts. First shower in her new apartment. First time scarfing down un-grilled bread and cheese for breakfast. First time going into the elevator on campus. First college class and, by extension, first bit of gay panic in that classroom. </p><p>The girl is beautiful, striking in a way that makes Hope force her eyes to the ground. Her skin looks as if it’s been tanned from hours spent in the sun over the summer, and the rest of her looks just as well-loved. There are dots of freckles along the backs of her palms, holes scattered in the fluffy sweater she’s wearing. Her eyes are warm and brown, legs crossed and shiny where she sits in front of them all. </p><p>Hope guesses that she might be the teacher, but then decides that the girl looks too young for that. She seems to be just a couple years older than Hope.</p><p>Whoever she is, she makes eye contact with Hope as Hope passes. It’s a welcoming look that comes with a smile but it unnerves Hope anyways. She forces a smile before turning and going up the stairs all the way into the back row, on the end so no one will have to climb over her while taking their seat. </p><p>Hope plays with the corner of her notebook, looking quiet but arguing quite loudly with herself on the inside. She’s five minutes early and about twenty people are here, but it seems as if there’s virtually no one in the vastness of the room. Well, no one but Hope and that girl in the front. </p><p>Hope can’t help but imagine a calmer version of herself. One who stands up straight and allows her eyes to linger. A version that would have smiled confidently and said hello or introduced herself. She’d like to be any version of herself except for the one she actually is, honestly. The one that sits tensely in the back of the class, practically choking on her own nerves. </p><p>Eventually people begin to flood into the room. One after the other, taking their seats. Slowly, the seats begin to fill and people surround Hope. Some immediately go for the front, others seek out their friends, and some, like Hope, find refuge in the back. The classroom is packed by the time the clock hits eight a.m. and the actual teacher, an older man with wrinkles in his face and a tie on, starts his lecture. </p><p>He begins with writing his name in big letters on the board so everyone can see and tells a little bit about himself before giving a brief pause, his head inclined towards the girl.</p><p>“Oh.” She pipes up. “I’m Josie Saltzman.”</p><p>She spends the next hour taking notes and trying to force her eyes not to wander. Despite her best efforts, Hope still finds herself staring blatantly at Josie. A few times, she swears that Josie sees her looking and stares back. More than a few times, Hope picks up on that vague feeling that someone is watching her. </p><p>It makes her tense. By the end of class, her pen is slippery in her sweaty palm and she feels more than a little embarrassed about getting so worked up over some possible staring. </p><p>It’s just that all of this is new to Hope. Before, any inkling of attraction or a crush was covered in fear. She got used to literally running away from pretty straight girls. Back in high school, avoidance was key - but this isn’t high school. And this definitely isn’t her homophobic little hometown, Mystic Falls. Hope has an actual shot at a relationship here. Maybe not with Josie, but with some other nice girl she comes across.</p><p>With this knowledge in mind, Hope still practically sprints past Josie on the way out. New environment, same anxious Hope. </p><p>Hope is busy mentally yelling at herself when a girl jogs up to her and taps her arm, falling into step besides Hope. </p><p>“Hey, did you come from Mr. Brown’s class?” The girl asks. </p><p>Hope glances at her, taking in her disheveled brown hair and the glint of the piercing in her nose. She’s pretty. So pretty, in fact, that it’s hard for Hope to string a sentence together within the normal response time. The girl speaks fast - faster than Hope, at least - and beats Hope to the punch. </p><p>“I’m Penelope Park.” She pauses, searching Hope’s face expectantly for a response. When she doesn’t get one fast enough, she presses on. “I was supposed to be there but I couldn’t really bring myself to go in. My ex is the assistant. It’s a little awkward, you know?” </p><p>Hope doesn’t know, but if she doesn’t start speaking soon then Penelope will think she’s strange, so she forces words out. “Josie?”</p><p>Well, one word. </p><p>It’s enough for Penelope, who casually follows Hope down the stairs as if they’re friends. It feels nice, like Hope is a normal confident person who can carry on a conversation with minimal panic. </p><p>“Yeah, you must have met her.” Penelope nods, seeming a bit distracted at the mention of Josie. Hope already knows the feeling. “Oh, so you were in Mr. Brown’s class, then. Can I see your notes?” </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>They stop in a field of grass between the buildings where other kids are sitting around or playing with frisbees. Hope kneels to go through her bag and find her notebook. Hope hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s nice out here. The sky is cloudless and blue, the sun is bright, mindless chatter and laughter is surrounding them, and Penelope is plopping herself down on the grass like she’s already made a decision about keeping Hope around.</p><p>“Here.” Hope holds the opened notebook out to Penelope, who takes it and gets to work snapping pictures of the pages. </p><p>Hope waits, not standing or sitting but feeling awkward there on her knees. She always feels at least a little stiff and uncomfortable, so she brushes it off. Her fingers find the grass as Penelope takes pictures, palms pressing to the dirt underneath and some of her nails becoming black with mud.</p><p>“Thanks.” Penelope gives the notebook back, but her eyes linger. “So, what’s your name?” </p><p>All of a sudden Hope feels the need to impress Penelope. Maybe it’s because she’s the first person to really stop and talk to Hope. Maybe it’s because Penelope oozes easy confidence, leans back on her palms and fixes Hope with a stare that somehow makes her flowery skirt seem sinful. It’s bizarre, but Hope’s thoughts are suddenly not jumbled up in her mind and her words are clear. </p><p>“Hope Mikaelson.” She says, feeling confident in this little detail. </p><p>Penelope repeats her name, smiling appreciatively. “Mikaelson. I like it.”</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>The next couple weeks pass by in a blur. Hope goes to her classes, shows up for her nightly shifts at work (she spends hours at a gas station behind the counter, barely interacting with anyone and liking it that way), and lives off of cheap food that she mostly gets from work. Her life is better than it ever has been before. </p><p>Part of it is because of Penelope, who has become sort of a friend. They only have that one class together, so they barely see each other during the day, but they text for hours about dumb things. Penelope sends her memes and Hope gets to respond without having an actual face to face conversation, and their friendship builds from there. </p><p>The only problem is her neighbor. </p><p>Almost every single night, there’s a rapid thump against the walls that drives Hope insane. The worst part is the moaning - the loud, high-pitched sounds of sex that make Hope blush and clench her eyes shut in disgust. Several times, Hope will work up the courage to go out into the hall and knock on the neighboring door, but each time she loses her nerve and runs back into her apartment. </p><p>She wishes she had more confidence. Or at least, she wishes that she could muster up enough anger to actually say something. She’s too docile for that, too timid. </p><p>So, it goes on long enough that Hope has to go to class exhausted one day because of the non-stop thumping. She’s too tired to even care about her appearance. Her hair is unbrushed, skin appearing grey under her eyes, and she is barely able to hold her paper properly when she steps in the room. </p><p>Hope drops her paper on the stack of other students’ papers laying on the desk. She’s so careless with her actions that she forgets to glue her gaze to the floor when she passes Josie. </p><p>“Morning, Hope.” Josie says, shocking Hope so much that she just stands there dumbly. </p><p>There’s hundreds of people in this class. Hope hadn’t thought for a second that Josie knew her name.</p><p>“Morning.” She replies, voice rough with her lack of sleep. Hope goes up the stairs fast enough that she doesn’t catch Josie’s answering smile. </p><p>Hope finds Penelope sitting near the stairs, saving the seat right next to her, which Hope takes. She feels Penelope’s eyes on her as soon as she sits down, running all over her flushed face, but she’s reluctant to look. This is not the first time Hope has thought about how she’s crushing on her only friend’s ex and it probably won’t be the last. </p><p>Penelope eventually looks away when the lesson starts and only then does Hope exhale, feeling terribly guilty. </p><p>Hope has the decency not to look at Josie for a solid twenty minutes, but her resolve breaks soon enough and then she’s staring in Josie’s direction while mindlessly writing notes. It’s hard to not pay attention to Josie when Josie is starting to pick up their papers, flipping right through Hope’s right in front of her. Hope’s eyes are set on Josie’s face, already wishing that she had written a better paper.</p><p>The prompt had been about everyone’s reasons for coming here and what they planned to accomplish. Hope had gotten the feeling they were supposed to write something about their upcoming careers, but instead she had written about the truth. About her quest to be better than she is today, to improve and keep improving until she can go about life okay with living outside of normalcy. </p><p>Why else would she live miles and miles away from Mystic Falls, where she’s lived all her life?</p><p>It had been an okay paper, but it’s still daunting to watch someone read into her life in front of her. Hope finds herself filled with anxiety once again, but that’s not exactly new. </p><p>Class ends and Hope has used up another five more pages of notes while Penelope has used two, one of which is covered in doodles. They pack up together, taking their time putting their pens and notebooks away. </p><p>“What are you doing Saturday?” Penelope asks, shouldering her bag and stepping out into the line of people on the stairs with Hope. </p><p>“I don’t know.” Hope plays with the strap on her backpack, gathering herself. “Hanging out with you?” </p><p>Penelope twists her head around to grin at Hope, looking excited. “You’re going to let me get you high?”</p><p>“Well.” Hope stammers. “I didn’t say that, but-“</p><p>“Hope.” Josie says, interrupting them. </p><p>Here comes the awkward triangle. Penelope looks at Josie so icily that it’s a shock to Hope, who is used to Penelope always appearing calm and unbothered. Josie looks at Penelope, just as irritated, but a little more composed, and then looks at Hope so softly that Hope feels her knees grow weak. Meanwhile, Hope glances between the both of them, feeling the strange tension and not enjoying it at all.</p><p>“Yeah?” Hope asks, breaking them out of their little bubble. There’s hundreds of students rushing out of the room, so it’s hardly silent, but it feels as if they had been inside a muted television for a moment there. </p><p>“Can I talk to you about your paper?” Josie’s eyes go to Penelope. “Alone.” </p><p>“I’ll be outside.” Penelope says, looking as if she has a rude comment waiting on her tongue. </p><p>Josie and Hope step aside, allowing more people to pass by them. Hope bounces on her feet, eyes downcast and hands in her pockets as Josie smooths out her skirt. </p><p>Hope can’t help but let her eyes trace over the tanned skin of Josie’s thighs, just under where the skirt ends. Her gaze goes all the way up Josie’s body, along the curve of her sides to her neck, which Hope lingers on. Part of her neck looks cakey, as if there was powder spread along it. Hope is in the middle of wondering what Josie has to cover up with makeup when Josie finally speaks. </p><p>“Your paper was really good.” She says, leaning back against the desk. “Different than I expected.”</p><p>Hope feels her face get hot. “Yeah, sorry about that.”</p><p>“No. Different is good. Different is better.” </p><p>There’s a pregnant pause. Hope feels her gut twist and turn. Looking at Josie is hard, she’s so pretty that when Hope’s eyes get caught on her pouty lips words escape her. Josie licks her lips and Hope, knowing that her cheeks must be reaching embarrassing levels of red, decides to try and leave.</p><p>“Was that all?” Hope questions, glancing towards the door. Besides them, only the teacher is left in the room, closing the PowerPoint he had opened.</p><p>“Sorry.” Josie shakes her head, chuckling to herself about a joke Hope doesn’t understand. “I think I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”</p><p>“To talk to me?” Hope repeats, unbelieving. </p><p>If Hope didn’t know any better, she would say that Josie looks a little embarrassed. </p><p>“Yeah.” Josie says finally. “It’s always nice to meet a great writer, you know.”</p><p>Hope is definitely blushing hard now. “Thank you.”</p><p>She takes that as her cue to go. Hope dips out of the classroom before she gets another chance to embarrass herself and finds Penelope waiting for her outside, as promised. </p><p>Penelope has her phone in her pocket and one earbud in. She’s leaning against the wall but she pushes off of it when she spots Hope and they begin walking outside, back to where they first swapped notes. </p><p>“So, what did Josie want?” Penelope asks, trying to sound casual and failing terribly. Hope glances at her. This is strange, Penelope is usually so calm and collected. </p><p>What did Josie want? She just called Hope over to smile cutely and compliment her. What does that mean? Hope feels totally clueless. </p><p>“She just wanted to talk about the paper. I think I’m getting an A.” Hope replies, but she’s in the mood to listen to someone else talk so she turns the attention to Penelope. “What did you write about?” </p><p>“Drugs.”</p><p>Hope is taken aback. “Your motivation is drugs?”</p><p>They walk along the grass. Hope studies their feet, the black Converse Hope is wearing and the Crocs Penelope has on. She can see through the holes that Penelope’s toes are painted a deep red, contrasting nicely with her tan skin. Hope wants to compliment her on it, but she saves it for later.</p><p>“Well.” Penelope rephrases. “Marijuana and how I want to make it more normalized in society. It helps some people, you know? Like, I’ve got terrible anxiety-“</p><p>“You do?” Hope asks, unable to stop herself from interrupting. </p><p>This is news to her. As always, Penelope seems so chill. Even with being interrupted, she just smiles lazily at Hope and shrugs.</p><p>“Yeah. I’m almost constantly high though.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>They walk a little more. Hope studies Penelope’s toes again, thinking about weed and whether or not it would really help her. She has some Googling to do, but she’s honestly willing to try anything. It’s so embarrassing not being able to get her words out, especially when she’s nineteen and everyone around her speaks freely. </p><p>It isn’t lost on her that she must look even more awkward next to Penelope’s easy going personality.</p><p>“Speaking of weed, there’s a party Saturday.” Penelope says, once they meet the spot where they usually part ways. “You should come, it starts after ten. I’ll pick you up if you want to go.”</p><p>Obviously, parties aren’t Hope’s thing - but Hope’s thing is being a weird loner who lurks in the shadows, and she doesn’t want to be that anymore. She wants so desperately to be better than she is, and so she nods.</p><p>“Sure. That sounds fun.”</p><p> </p><p>That night is just as terrible as the one before. Hope is in bed (which still means she’s curled under a jacket on the mattress), staring silently up at the ceiling. Apparently, she’s the only decent person who knows to be quiet during the night.</p><p>The constant thudding has not stopped for hours. It’s loud, too. So loud that Hope knows which moans are her neighbor’s and which are the other person’s. She imagines her neighbor as an annoying, petite young girl who’s fucking random men or her boyfriend every night. Whoever she is, she gets on Hope’s nerves so much that Hope could just scream.</p><p>Except, Hope doesn’t scream. She hasn’t done that in years. </p><p>Instead she lets her anger build, as it usually does, until she gets to her feet and wraps her jacket around herself. Her legs are bare, vision blurry as she wanders over to her wall instead of her door. Usually she would go out into the hall, knock once, and then run away as soon as she hears footsteps - she’s too afraid for face to face interaction.</p><p>This is less frightening, this requires little eye contact. </p><p>She hits her fist against the wall hard enough that the sex noises on the other side of it stop, and once Hope hears some silence she decides to speak. </p><p>“Can you keep it down?” It’s too polite for the anger she’s feeling, but she’s proud of herself for saying anything at all.</p><p>Hope waits. It’s still quiet enough that Hope knows they aren’t continuing, but she isn’t sure if her neighbor heard her or not. She hopes so and she thinks there’s a good chance they did, because Hope knows that the walls are definitely very thin. </p><p>“Nope.” Comes her neighbor’s voice. </p><p>Hope opens her mouth to complain again, but shuts it when she suddenly hears another loud moan. She sighs, guessing that she can probably fall asleep if she just shoves her pillow against her ears. </p><p> </p><p>This happens twice more in the week. </p><p>Hope knocks on the wall and complains or deals with it, staying up until all hours of the night with her eyes burning from exhaustion. She even considers calling the landlord, but decides that she’ll give it a bit before she does anything too drastic. She desperately wants to not cause a problem for anyone else, but at the same time she just wants to sleep.</p><p>One morning she wakes up to the birds chirping and it’s bright outside, sunlight leaking into her apartment through the windows. For a moment she’s perfectly content and feels well-rested, but the next moment she’s on edge. She usually wakes up to her alarm and when she does, the sky is a murky grey or purple, but now her phone lays quietly and the sunlight stings her eyes. </p><p>Hope realizes that she’s late for her first class and she’ll have to work with Penelope’s notes (which are almost completely unreliable). It’s so late that there’s no point in trying to race across campus now. The class is probably four slides into their PowerPoint and by the time Hope got there, they’d be pretty much done. Somehow, the worst part of it is that she won’t be able to see Josie today. </p><p>Josie feels far away, most likely sitting on her stool next to the desk in class.</p><p>She sits up and turns her head to the left, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she looks at the wall. Hope stands and walks over, thumps her fists against the wall to make one solid noise.</p><p>“Screw you.” Hope says, first in a whisper, and then louder. “Screw you.”</p><p>No response comes from the other side.</p><p> </p><p>On Saturday night around eleven, Penelope pulls up outside of Hope’s apartment building in her car. Hope isn’t sure what she had been expecting of Penelope’s car (something simple, with trash scattered in the backseat, treated as lovingly as Penelope’s notebook), but it isn’t this. Clean, sleek, and so black that it blends into the night. It looks expensive, straight out of a futuristic movie.</p><p>Penelope rolls down her window and sticks her head out. “Get in, Mikaelson.” </p><p>Hope goes around the car to get to the passenger seat, having to duck her head and bend down to get in. Penelope greets her with a smirk as soon as she closes the door. </p><p>“You dressed up.” Penelope comments. “You look good.”</p><p>Dressing up really isn’t the phrase for what Hope is wearing, but it’s better than what she usually puts on. She has skinny jeans and a maroon tank top with the school’s logo on it, a very simple outfit. She knows what Penelope means though. The jeans show off the curve of her hips and the tank top shows more cleavage than Hope has ever exposed, but she kind of likes it. </p><p>“Thanks, Pen.” Hope replies, letting the nickname slip.</p><p>Penelope grins and quickly drives off into the street. “That’s a dope nickname. I’m a writing utensil.”</p><p>Hope glances at her uncertainly, then at the speed they’re going, and decides to put on her seatbelt. She only knows Penelope when Penelope wears that light-headed look on her face, but it’s a little more unnerving when Penelope is behind the wheel. </p><p>“Please tell me you’re not high right now.” She says.</p><p>“Of course not, I’m driving.” Penelope bats the thought away and then glances over at Josie again. “I’m not kidding, you do look nice. No flannel this time, I’m proud of you. You’re not a stereotype.” </p><p>Hope lets those words sit in the air and dissolve. Back in Mystic Falls, Penelope’s words would have been clipped and tense - an obvious insult. Here, her words hold no malice. There isn’t anything sour behind her voice, no judgement. Hope supposes that people would go ahead and assume she’s a lesbian from the way she dresses, but for once this doesn’t feel like a bad thing.</p><p>For once, she lets it be. </p><p>Penelope rolls the windows down, cranks the music up. They drive down the street with the wind in their hair, bathed in the orange glow of passing street lights. Music leaks into their ears and makes them dance in their seats, one of Penelope’s hands always off the wheel to sway in the wind while Hope laughs her throat sore beside her. </p><p>The party almost doesn’t matter, because by the time they get to it Hope feels a little looser. A bit more comfortable in her bones. She’s happy.</p><p>“Ready?” Penelope asks. She turns off the engine and opens her door before Hope gets a chance to respond. Hope is left scrambling after her, and loving it too. </p><p>The apartment building looks normal, except for the familiar vibrations of music Hope feels as they step up the stairs. Penelope talks about how her friend invited her (Hope’s head spins with the idea of Penelope having other friends for Penelope to introduce her to) and how it’s a super chill thing, not a lot of people but a lot of familiar faces. </p><p>They climb the stairs, Penelope in front of Hope, until they reach the third floor and then the sound of music becomes more apparent. It’s a rap song with a lot of bass that Hope doesn’t recognize, but it’s rapid and constant - much like Hope’s heartbeat right about now.</p><p>All of her nerves return suddenly, seeing the open door and the many people casually going in and out of it. She almost freezes on the spot, but Penelope seems to sense this somehow and hooks their arms together to haul Hope along. They go into the party together, Penelope not releasing Josie until they get into the kitchen. </p><p>“Do you want a drink?” Penelope asks, already pouring some vodka for herself.</p><p>Hope looks around at the crowd, feeling her heart rattle in her chest. “Yeah.” </p><p>Penelope pours her vodka, but mixes it with some kind of juice while hers is straight. They each give each other a moment to breathe, Hope sipping at her cup and Penelope taking long gulps from hers. There is no one in the kitchen besides them and Hope isn’t too keen on leaving the room, since she’d just been pulled through a sweaty, crowded living room.</p><p>“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Penelope says, taking out her phone and texting someone. “He’s a cool guy - don’t tell him I said that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”</p><p>They wait about a minute and then a boy wearing a bright yellow polo shirt comes in, grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t look as if he would be friends with Penelope, but Hope sees the little smile that comes across Penelope’s face as soon as she sees him. He picks Penelope up easily and spins her, laughing. </p><p>“Hey, dummy.” Penelope lovingly ruffles his hair once her feet are back on the ground. </p><p>“It’s good to see you.” He replies and then looks over at Hope. “Is this Hope? You’re right, she is very small.”</p><p>Hope blushes at the comment as the boy steps forward, offering her his hand. She takes a quick moment to size him up, glancing him up and down. Nothing he’s wearing matches and his smile is almost too big for his face, but it makes him seem more friendly somehow. Hope shakes his hand and is surprised to find that it’s much softer than she expected, but a little wet. </p><p>“Sorry, lotion.” He wipes his palm on his navy blue pants. “I’m MG. Nice to meet you.”</p><p>“Hope. Nice to meet you.” She responds, getting a friendly nod from him in return. </p><p>MG turns to Penelope so fast that it seems as if he’s moving like a hummingbird. His head whips around and Hope almost flinches, but Penelope stays still as if this a common occurrence. </p><p>“I was in the middle of talking to Lizzie. Can I dip?” MG asks, resembling an excited puppy. </p><p>“Definitely not.” Penelope rolls her eyes. “You two don’t talk, you just get her drinks. It’s manipulative. It runs in Saltzman blood.” </p><p>Hearing the name Saltzman, Hope perks up a bit. She’s curious, but she doesn’t want to sound too eager. That could tip off Penelope about her little crush. </p><p>“Saltzman?” She asks, trying to sound subtle. </p><p>“Yeah, Josie’s twin, Lizzie Saltzman. MG is obsessed with her.” Penelope explains. “I don’t know why she’s here, though. She never comes to these things unless it’s for a boy.”</p><p>MG suddenly stares guiltily down at the floor. Hope watches Penelope pick up on it, a little amused at how Penelope’s eyebrow ticks up into a questioning arch. </p><p>“I might have invited Josie so she would bring Lizzie.” He admits, his voice only just loud enough to be heard over the music. MG makes eye contact with Lizzie and blushes, picking at his nails. </p><p>(Hope wonders if this is Penelope’s friend type: awkward dorks who don’t know how to dress and who fawn over the Saltzmans.)</p><p>Penelope just groans and says she needs something stronger than vodka, then marches off into the living room. Hope almost wants to run after her, but she’s a second too late and she knows that she’ll get lost in the crowd if she goes. So she stays and finishes off of half a cup of vodka just to preoccupy her mouth so she won’t be forced to speak.</p><p>Her mind is screaming at her to think of something, anything. She wants to be able to talk to MG casually. He’s watching her out of the corner of his eye and Hope knows she just needs to pick a topic and run with it.</p><p>“Does Josie’s twin look the same as her?” Hope questions after a moment, thinking about how fucked she would be if she was forced to talk to two beautiful brunettes tonight.</p><p>MG shakes his head, lighting up at the chance to get to talk about Lizzie. “Nope. Better.”</p><p>Hope doubts that, but she lets him talk anyways.</p><p> </p><p>They end up going back and forth about the Saltzman twins for an hour, keeping in the corner of the room so people who walk through the kitchen don’t stop their conversation. Hope says maybe ten words, but she’s able to make MG laugh and she nods along to his stories about his epic crush on Lizzie and how he’s loved her ever since he saw her at the sandbox in kindergarten. </p><p>While MG talks, Hope drinks. She downs cup after cup of vodka, giving up on the juice after a while. It becomes hard to stand, but her tongue gets looser and words start to leave her mouth much easier than before, so it’s worth it. </p><p>“She’s pretty.” Hope blurts, all of a sudden, interrupting MG. Her stomach feels a bit sick and MG seems to be swaying in her vision. </p><p>“Who? Lizzie?” MG asks. “I know, she-“</p><p>“No, Josie.” She tells him. </p><p>He pauses and looks at her oddly for a moment, before his small smile becomes a full fledged grin. It’s funny, he has the type of teeth that almost looks as if he has fangs. </p><p>“You like Josie, don’t you?” </p><p>Hope panics. “Don’t tell Penelope.” </p><p>“Let’s go talk to them right now.” MG is suddenly holding her hand and the room is spinning as she stumbles forward, getting pulled through the crowd. </p><p>All the bodies that rub against her make her want to vomit. The heavy scent of sweat in the air hits her nose harder than a punch to the face and the quick way MG is pulling her can’t be great for her stomach or head, but part of her is excited. She really wants to talk to Josie, but at the same time she’s terrified and is five seconds away from digging her heels into the floor to stop them from moving. </p><p>It only takes two seconds for MG to find Josie and three for Hope to spot her in the crowd.</p><p>Josie is dressed in purple, her dress short and tight around her body. She moves like a hurricane through the crowd, swirling around with her hands in the air and the biggest grin Hope has ever seen on her face. The music is her best friend, the beat of the song seeming to take over her body as if it were the air in her lungs. She’s the most beautiful girl in the room, and she dances like she knows it. </p><p>Hope is breathless. </p><p>Also, gawking. Hope is blatantly gawking at Josie as she dances, feeling almost as if her eyes were just meant to stare at pretty girls. </p><p>Before she even gets a chance to form another thought, MG pushes her towards Josie. Hope hits her back midway and blurts out an immediate apology that gets lost in the music. Josie twists around and just smiles when she sees who it is, looking genuinely glad that it’s Hope in front of her. </p><p>Josie goes on dancing, her body inclined towards Hope like an offering but not actually touching her. Hope’s bones are stiff, arms set tensely at her sides, every move she makes coming with an overthought. </p><p>Her body feels unable to settle, but Josie rolls her hips in an even circle and hooks her fingers around the nape of Hope’s neck, pulling Hope into her orbit. It’s a little easier, then. Her palms seek out the curve of Josie’s waist, pinkies resting against the softness of Josie’s hips. She absorbs a little more of Josie’s confidence, stealing it from the warmth in the room that makes this song feel infinite. </p><p>Hope watches the lights dance across Josie’s face - her sweaty forehead blue, her eyes bathed in yellow, the shiny gloss on her lips an alluring red. Hope wants to take the red from her, too, and maybe all of the colors while she’s at it.</p><p>Josie wets her mouth, dips down so low that Hope’s heart jumps (thinking of a kiss that never comes), and presses it close to Hope’s ear.</p><p>“You want to get some air?” </p><p> </p><p>Josie ends up leading her outside, her lips glossy and hair tousled, looking better than Hope could have ever dreamed. She steps out of her heels and loses three inches, shakes out the ache in her feet with every step towards the sidewalk.</p><p>The wind whips at them, their bodies still hot from dancing and their foreheads colder than anything else due to the sweat. When Hope inhales, she smells the alcohol on her own breath and a mix of them in the air. Expensive perfume and under that something sweet and musty, something that smells so distinctly like girl that draws Hope into Josie’s side. </p><p>Josie sits on the curb, knees pressed together, not bothering to pull the end of her dress back down her thighs. </p><p>It’s a wilder version of Josie who tugs Hope down to the curb with her, a more reckless version who breathes tequila Hope’s way and greets her with a tipsy smile that Hope feels all the way down to her toes. </p><p>“You making a mental image?” Josie asks, noticing Hope’s quiet staring and playing it off with a grin. </p><p>All Hope can do is nod, eyes on Josie’s face. Her eyes are all one solid, smooth brown color that reflects the light beautifully. Josie is right. If her mind was a camera, she would snap a thousand pictures to keep in her memory. </p><p>Josie strikes a pose. “Go ahead, then. Take your picture.” </p><p>Hope, still drunk and unsure of what to do, squeezes her eyes shut once and makes a clicking noise as if her face were a camera. She feels awkward about it, but it makes Josie’s laughter fill up the air and run wildly down the street.  </p><p>It’s infectious. All Hope really wants is a little more confidence, to do something as simple as laughing like that.</p><p>“You’re cute.” Josie says finally, the ghost of her laughter being the smile lingering on her lips. “I like hearing your voice, you know.” </p><p>“Hi.” Hope responds, at Josie’s expectant look. </p><p>“You’re drunk.” Josie tells her, giggling into the palm of her hand and bumping their shoulders together. </p><p>With shoulders comes hips, thighs, and legs, and then their sides are pressed together like they’re both on a mission to merge their bodies together. If this is what being drunk feels like (floaty and bubbly, and able to get words out in the eyes of someone so utterly attractive), then Hope likes being drunk. </p><p>“No.” She protests, even as her feet seem to be more floating than touching the ground. “I’m not.” </p><p>“Yes, you are.” Josie replies, obviously amused. </p><p>Hope feels her mouth form a pout that she’ll probably regret later. “No.”</p><p>“Yes.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You’re competitive.” Hope says finally, noticing that Josie has tilted herself far into Hope’s space. </p><p>She’s not sure what to do about it, so just lets the air get sucked out of her lungs and allows her heart to run rampant out of its cage.</p><p>Josie tilts impossibly close. Hope’s eyes find Josie’s lips on instinct, wondering what the gloss on Josie’s bottom lip would taste like between her teeth. She forces her eyes back up, but Josie’s eyes are no less alluring. Hope gets lost in them, first seeing her reflection, the black of Josie’s pupils, and then Josie’s slowly closing eyelids. </p><p>“You like it.” Josie replies, and she’s right because the low, teasing tone of Josie’s voice brings on a throb of arousal. </p><p>And then Josie kisses her.</p><p>Josie takes that throb and turns it into a steady beat, fine tunes Hope’s entire body with her lips so the spot between Hope’s thighs plays the beat of the bass and Hope’s heartbeat makes the melody. Her fingers tangle in Hope’s hair as Hope presses forward, the eagerness in the mash of their lips making lyrics as sharp as alcohol.</p><p>They pull away for a single second to breathe and adjust. Hope wants to tell Josie that this is her first kiss - her first kiss with a girl, her first kiss that really matters - but Josie leans back in and takes the words from her, so Hope lets Josie’s tongue form the chorus. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna call an Uber.” Josie mumbles when they get space between their lips. “You wanna come home with me?” </p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>Josie laughs in the airy, confident type of way that coaxed Hope toward her in the first place. She gets out her phone and does what she said she would, calling an Uber right in front of Hope’s eyes as if to confirm that this isn’t a joke - Josie wants Hope to come home with her. </p><p>Meanwhile, Hope takes out her phone and sends a sloppy text to Penelope about her whereabouts, one that’s filled with typos and doesn’t mention who she’s with. Guilt rises up her throat the way vomit might later that night, but one look at Josie’s smudged mascara and puffed up, freshly kissed lips pushes the guilt down. </p><p>The car comes with an overweight man who laughs when he sees them going at it on the curb, not bothering to hide what they’re doing from anyone. It feels nice to slip her arm around Josie’s waist as they get in the car, able to be as touchy as she wants for once. No one is there to judge her or to tell her that what she’s doing is wrong, and Hope relishes the freedom. </p><p>They slide into the seats together, but aren’t apart for long. Josie picks at Hope’s ankles enough that Hope raises them and twists in the seat, spreading her legs along Josie’s lap and letting her head fall against the window. Josie sets her hands on Hope’s legs, like she’s just as needy for Hope’s skin as Hope is for Josie’s. It makes her feel wanted and hot and sticky where her underwear presses against her. </p><p>It’s all moving so fast that Hope isn’t even sure if this is real life, but her mouth doesn’t only taste like her own and she can see Josie’s reflection in the window. </p><p>They could have danced for hours or a single song - Hope isn’t sure, she’s so drunk that she’s lost track of time. She hadn’t even gotten a hold of how long they kissed, only knows that it felt good and that it’s about to feel better.</p><p>“Pretty.” Josie whispers, sounding like a gunshot in the silence of the car. </p><p>Hope lifts her eyes from the streetlights outside and finds Josie skimming her fingers along the exposed sliver of skin between Hope’s jeans and her tank top. Josie’s barely-there nail scrapes just under Hope’s bellybutton teasingly.</p><p>It brings out more of a reaction than Hope would like to admit. She almost tells Josie that she’s a virgin, almost blurts out the words with the thought that she should just be honest - but she’s afraid to pop the bubble they’re in. Hope stays silent, biting her tongue, trying not to have too much of a reaction to such a simple touch. </p><p>Hope’s eyes follow the streets and she thinks, distantly, that the way they’re taking looks very familiar. It’s the same streets she’s gotten used to walking around on her way to the grocery store or school. The familiarity of it draws Hope in, makes her blink at her faded reflection in the window and think about her surroundings.</p><p>“You live here?” Hope asks, raising her head to look at the apartment building she’s been living in for about a month now. All that time spent there and Hope never came across Josie.</p><p>“Yeah.” Josie responds, words slurred as she counts her money. “Why? You know the building?”</p><p>“Yeah.” She replies simply. </p><p>After paying, Josie pushes open the door and starts to get out. The wind flying into the car hits Hope like a truck. Suddenly she’s overthinking again (but in a more slowed, subdued way than her usual ramble) and she realizes that hooking up with a pretty much random girl she’s barely exchanged words with is not her - but then again, maybe that’s a good thing. </p><p>She follows Josie into their apartment building and up the stairs, feeling nervous and shaky but pushing through it anyways. Her legs are like Jello, trembling with each step. When they reach Hope’s floor and Josie says that this it, Hope bursts into high-pitched laughter that sounds far away. </p><p>Josie gives her a questioning look and Hope shakes her head, not being able to wipe the look from her face.</p><p>“I live here.” Hope explains.</p><p>They could have been just passing each other everyday. Josie probably leaves a little earlier for school, Hope probably gets home a little later. </p><p>Hope’s amazement grows as they get further down the hall towards her apartment. They stop right near her and she wants to laugh again, thinking about how funny it would be if Josie were to reveal that she lives across the hall. </p><p>“Hold this.” Josie says, handing Hope her purse.</p><p>It would be funny, except Josie gets her key out and sticks it into the lock of the apartment to the left of hers, and suddenly it’s not very funny at all. </p><p>“You live here?” Hope asks. There’s no way Josie is that one annoying neighbor who keeps her up all night. “Like, alone? With no roommates?” </p><p>“Yep. Where’s yours?” Josie pushes her door open so it’s slightly ajar.</p><p>Hope contemplates not saying anything at all. She’s drunk enough that she could get away with no answer, but Josie is looking at her expectantly so she reaches over and taps her apartment door. </p><p>“Wait.” Josie says, her mood changing almost immediately. “You’re the asshole that lives next door?” </p><p>“Asshole? You’re the one that keeps me up at night.” Hope replies, before she even knows what she’s doing. </p><p>Her words come out sharper than they have before, twinged with anger Hope never knew she would ever let leak. She wishes that she hadn’t let it slip, because Josie closes her door and Hope gets the feeling any chance of things continuing is over.</p><p>“Well, you ruin sex.” Josie responds sort of loudly, making Hope blush. “I’m trying to fuck someone and suddenly you’re ding-dong ditching me.”</p><p>“You don’t even have a doorbell.”</p><p>Josie releases a frustrated noise. “Fine, then. You’re knock-knock ditching me. Either way, it’s annoying.”</p><p>Flustered, Hope’s thoughts move too slow and her mouth goes too fast. She fumbles, opening and closing it for a second before responding. </p><p>“Well, you’re annoying.” </p><p>“You’re annoying, too.” </p><p>They stare at each other for a moment. Hope half expects Josie to just roll her eyes and kiss her again, but that doesn’t happen. Josie opens up her door, looking slightly disappointed, and disappears into her apartment, which leaves Hope to stand there dumbly in the hall. Eventually she gets her shit together and opens up her own apartment, then pretends to go to bed. </p><p>That night, Hope gets the best sleeping she has had in weeks, because for once Josie isn’t fucking anyone next door.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the next day Hope doesn’t have class and gets to wake up well-rested and content until she remembers last night’s events. The memory leaves a bad taste in her mouth and all the alcohol she drank makes her head throb like it never has before. The happiness leaves her almost as quickly as it came. </p><p>She rolls over with her eyes shut to feel blindly for her phone, trying not to let too much light hit her pupils. Hope finds it and makes a defeated sort of sound when she has to squint at it, scrolling through the many texts Penelope sent her. There’s too many to respond to, so in the end she just calls her.</p><p>It takes a moment, but eventually Penelope picks up. </p><p>“Hey, Mikaelson.” Penelope greets. Hope is relieved to hear that she doesn’t sound mad at all, just sleepy. “MG told me you hooked up with some girl. I’m proud, I didn’t know you had it in you for a one night stand.”</p><p>“I didn’t know I did either.” She replies, rolling so far off her mattress that her face presses into the carpet. Hope has every intention of rolling all the way to the kitchen for some water.</p><p>Her head hurts, more than she ever thought it would, and she swears under her breath the entire time she rolls. The room is spinning and her rolling probably isn’t helping that, but she feels too sick to stand up properly. So, Hope rolls into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge from the floor and then takes an embarrassing amount of time trying to get water while Penelope rambles in her ear about Lizzie Saltzman being the scum of the earth. </p><p>“Really, she’s just so annoying.” Penelope groans while Hope chugs water, some of it slipping out of her mouth in an entirely unattractive way. “She wouldn’t shut up all night about some Ken doll looking guy, right in front of MG. He kind of needs that, though. He needs to move on from Satan.”</p><p>Hope laughs, despite herself. Penelope is really dramatic. “Are you sure you’re not a drama major?”</p><p>“Oh, so you do make jokes. And here I thought I was gonna have to carry the weight of comedy in this friendship.” </p><p>Hope rolls her eyes, knowing Penelope can’t see her. She slows her chugging to sips as she reaches the last of the bottle, only an inch or so left in there. Even though her stomach threatens to erupt any minute now and her head feels as if someone took a sledgehammer to it, Hope still feels relatively good. It’s nice to have a friend like Penelope, even if she does live to tease Hope relentlessly.</p><p>“So, who’d you hook up with?” Penelope asks. Hope stares at the floor, watching it spin, and shuts her eyes to imagine Penelope’s smirk. </p><p>“I didn’t hook up with anyone.” She replies, avoiding the question almost entirely. “We just made out a little. I didn’t know her.” </p><p>That whole night can be wiped away just like that, torn apart with a lie. It feels comforting, somehow, knowing that her epic fail with Josie can be easily swept under the rug. It also feels pretty crappy, because whatever hope Hope had for their relationship is lost. </p><p>“Ooo.” Penelope says. Hope had almost forgotten she was there. “A random.” </p><p>Hope wishes it was someone random. Sort of. Kind of. Okay, no she doesn’t. She had wanted to kiss Josie since the first time she saw her and she’s amazed that she even got the chance to.</p><p>She finds herself pressing her fingers along her arms and then her neck, searching for any trace that Josie was there at all. Her neck feels tender in certain spots, there’s even a little sting when she presses down on it. Hope uses her phone to take a picture of her neck and isn’t surprised to find blotchy, purple marks spread along it. </p><p>“Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m hungover.” Hope tells Penelope, her hand still at her neck and the guilt growing in her stomach. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll see you. Your vomiting noises aren’t as sexy as you think, you know.”</p><p>The call ends.</p><p>Her mind wanders to the memory of her pressing her mouth to Josie’s neck, thinking about how there are probably hickies on Josie’s too. It feels strange knowing that this time Josie will have to spread makeup over the marks that Hope left on her. She almost wants to get up and go over there, just to tell Josie to leave her neck bare and let people see what Hope has done. </p><p>There’s no excuse for randomly showing up at someone else’s apartment though, so Hope stays put. </p><p>She lays on her kitchen floor for what feels like an hour. Whenever her stomach feels better, she tries to crawl to her mattress, but whenever Hope crawls her stomach decides to ache as if she’s been stabbed. She’s hoping she can make it to the toilet or at least a trash can if she’s going to throw up, but movement makes the food in her stomach roll up and threaten to spill out of her mouth.</p><p>Eventually, Hope gets it together enough to make it to the bathroom. She manages to swallow her vomit - a small victory - and get into the shower. It makes her feel a lot better to be clean, even though the usually pleasant scent of her soap now makes her stomach churn.</p><p>She makes breakfast (this time her grilled cheese is grilled because she bought herself a pan), does some laundry, goes out of her way to walk around Josie’s apartment and not interact with her. It’s pretty easy, considering Josie is probably spending the day inside and nursing her hangover. </p><p>Hope’s plan is to just disappear - which she’s honestly pretty good at. </p><p>She’ll take the back seat in class, avoid eye contact religiously, force her mouth to glue shut whenever the thought of speaking to Josie slips in her head. It sounds easy enough, considering it’s exactly what she did for her first week. She can get through it. No biggie. </p><p> </p><p>Big biggie, Hope thinks, staring at Josie’s purse and mentally cursing herself out for having accidentally taken it. This puts a kink in her plan, kind of ruins the whole ‘avoidance is key’ idea. It’s not like she borrowed a hair tie or a couple dollars or something disposable. This is a purse, which probably holds all of Josie’s most important items. </p><p>A wallet filled with money, her phone, her driver’s license and car keys. Maybe makeup and chapstick.</p><p>Hope sort of wants to snoop around in it, but she resists the urge. That would be impolite. Still, her mind buzzes with curiosity and she has to shove her hands in her pockets to stop herself. There is still an obvious part of her that wants to know more about Josie. It’s the part of her that thirsts for companionship, that looks at Josie and desperately wants to see a future there. </p><p>It’s a part that needs to leave her alone - let her be. She swears that it’s going to suffocate her.</p><p>Anyways, Hope has a purse to deliver. Otherwise, Josie will just assume it’s stolen. She goes out into the hall to give it to her (this isn’t as easy as a decision as Hope makes it seem, in fact she spends a solid thirty minutes pacing the length of her small room, making herself dizzy with the motion), wearing double layers - a flannel and a hoodie - for protection. </p><p>The hallway is always much colder than it should be, but standing right outside Josie’s door somehow makes it feel colder.</p><p>Fighting the shiver and the thoughts that tell her to drop the bag at Josie’s door and run, Hope knocks. It’s the first time after knocking that her feet stay firmly planted on the floor. It feels strange, listening to the faint noises of Josie moving around in her apartment and going against the urge that tells her to run. </p><p>Footsteps come closer and closer to the door, louder than usual and with an unfamiliar thump. Hope bounces on her heels nervously, fiddling with the purse in her hands. </p><p>“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.” Hope mutters under her breath, over and over as if saying the words will somehow make her zap out of existence. </p><p>(How amazing would it be to have something as valuable as that: the power to not exist). </p><p>“I don’t want-“ Hope pauses, the words thick on her tongue as the door swings open. As soon as it does, Hope’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach.</p><p>Penelope stands on the other side of the doorway, looking surprised as ever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. during.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: this chapter includes mild descriptions of vomit, borderline alcoholic Josie, and a panic attack.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Josie is tired of her sister’s face. </p><p>Lizzie always looks at her with these perfect facial expressions, like it’s easy for her to turn Josie inside out to see the mess of emotions hiding inside. Her eyebrows are arched, hands resting on the pale skin of her thighs, which are resting on the dashboard. Josie is talking, and Lizzie is nodding along to Josie’s story about Penelope and her fighting as if Josie has told it a thousand times before.</p><p>“It’s annoying.” </p><p>Text bubbles filled with one word answers, most words exchanged coming more snippy than they needed to be, the backseat hollow and void of Penelope, filling up space with her voice and her never-ending source of sarcasm. </p><p>“She just left.” Josie continues, sighing as Lizzie smears pink, blue, and purple paint stripes just under each of her eyes. “She never leaves. Usually we argue until we’re both too tired or we - you know - go to bed. But we never leave.”</p><p>The whole month of June, thrown off by their fighting. The summer had been outlined in gold until it actually came along and brought with it unexpected anger. School had stood as a rubberband, tightly wrapped around Penelope’s temper and Josie’s insecurities to keep their arguments away. </p><p>As the summer came and the nights became heated, so did every interaction between Josie and her girlfriend, until it came to this - not even going to Pride together. </p><p>“Go to bed?” Lizzie questions, leaning forward to pull the mirror down and inspect her face paint. “More like ‘fuck in Lizzie’s bed’. I still can’t believe you two did that.” </p><p>“Lizzie, I wanted advice.” </p><p>Lizzie rolls her eyes, but puts on her serious face. “You should dump her. You’ve been dating since high school. You’re twenty-one. Who does that? And you break up, like, every couple of months. Just end it.”</p><p>Josie opens her mouth, an excuse for them to stay together already on her tongue. They’d been having this exact conversation for years, ever since Lizzie claimed that Penelope was ‘Satan’s slutty daughter’ after Josie and Penelope had their first fight. Except, she suddenly can’t find an excuse to Lizzie’s complaint.</p><p>Her silence stretches out long enough that the tips of Lizzie’s lips tilt up in a smirk and Josie has to turn on the radio, drowning out the ache in her chest with music.</p><p> </p><p>An hour later and Josie’s mood hasn’t brightened. Lizzie took it upon herself to get so drunk within the first half hour that she practically needs a babysitter, so Josie’s throat is painfully dry by the time she wanders into a bar looking for Lizzie and the little, giggling redhead Lizzie ran off with. </p><p>Josie’s head is aching with the type of pain that comes from standing for so long in the heat, and her fingers are slippery against her arm. She feels gross. It doesn’t help that the sweat is starting to fuck with her face paint (making an unbalanced mix of blue, pink, and yellow occasionally drip into her eye), or that Penelope isn’t here. It’s almost as if the lack of Penelope’s presence hit an off switch on Josie’s life and now she finds herself unable to enjoy what is usually one of her favorite events of the year.</p><p>She feels stiff walking up to the bar, her bones too heavy to settle in the seat properly. A big part of her wants to just call Penelope to hash things out, but there’s a stubborn, competitive part that keeps her fingers away from her pocket. </p><p>“Did you want to order something?” The bartender asks. </p><p>He’s tall enough that Josie has to tilt her head up to make polite eye contact, which she really isn’t happening about with the pounding of her head. His teeth are also overly bright, matching his general vibe - Josie only started saying ‘vibe’ in reference to people because Penelope says it so much - and his kind eyes that seem to make him perfect for this kind of job. </p><p>“Just whiskey. Please.” Josie picks at a fragile bit of peeling skin near her nail. “Anything not too expensive.” </p><p>He nods. “Got it. Whiskey for the pretty girl.”</p><p>Once his back is turned, Josie looks him over. Broad shoulders, dark skin, the kind of hands that Josie would associate with a lumberjack or someone who spends all their time in the woods. Lizzie would eat him up if she were here, but she’s not, and Josie is left feeling guilty about the tingle of excitement that comes from someone that looks like a Disney prince calling her pretty. </p><p>She fiddles with the wooden bar in front of her, dragging her middle finger along the slightly sticky surface as a distraction. </p><p>Penelope is still just in her pocket, right there for Josie to contact. She gives up in a minute, always falling into Penelope’s orbit even when she isn’t there, and takes out her phone to see what her girlfriend is doing. </p><p>“Here you go.” The bartender, Rafael (Josie checks the name tag), sets down her drink. </p><p>Josie glances up from her empty text bubble to Rafael’s gentle smile and slowly sets her phone down, noticing how he lingers near her with his hands folded in front of himself. She picks up her drink, still watching him bounce on his heels. It could be nice to talk to someone. </p><p>“This might be a little forward, but uh.” Rafael dips his head, pauses to scratch at the shaved hairs on the back of his neck. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”</p><p>Josie takes a sip of her drink, lets it sting her throat. “No. No boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Penelope Park has a habit of showing up out of nowhere, one Josie had forgotten about until now - stumbling down the street in the dark, eyes on Penelope’s hand where it holds her wrist, the world spinning from how drunk she is. </p><p>Josie barely knows what’s going on. Everything seems to be over by now, but Lizzie is nowhere in sight. She can’t remember when Penelope got here, just that she’s here and seems angry for some reason that Josie can’t place, but her stomach is in knots with guilt. It’s a horrible feeling, like she’s the liquid in a too full glass that Penelope is carelessly dragging along.</p><p>“I thought you weren’t coming.” Josie says, surprising herself with her own low, slurred voice.</p><p>Penelope laughs humorlessly (and oh god, she’s mad). “Clearly.”</p><p>They only have to walk for a few more minutes to reach the car. Josie barely even registers Penelope digging the keys out of her purse and the loud beep of Penelope’s car as she opens it. She does pick up enough of her senses to get in the car once Penelope opens the door for her. </p><p>It gives her a second to sit in silence, breathing heavily through her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit all over Penelope’s dashboard. Everything is just rolling around near the surface, waiting to come up - the upcoming argument, the possible end of their relationship, the many drinks Josie stupidly downed throughout the day.</p><p>The door opens and closes, leaving Penelope sitting silently beside her.</p><p>Josie glances over at Penelope. At the one little freckle near her mouth to the glint of the piercing in her nose, along the smaller details that Josie has memorized and grown so fond of. </p><p>“I didn’t cheat.” Josie tells her, wishing her words would come a little faster but not being able to break the slow breathing pattern she’s perfected. “We were just… flirting. I was - am - drunk. That’s, that’s not an excuse I just had to say it.”</p><p>God, she sounds hammered. </p><p>Penelope sighs. In the corner of her eye, Josie can see Penelope moving but isn’t sure what she’s doing until she leans over and opens up the glove compartment. Josie watches Penelope’s hand sort through everything in there, including a picture of Josie, until she finds a pack of cigarettes.</p><p>Josie does look at her then, and immediately regrets it because just the sight of how sad Penelope looks burns her. </p><p>“I thought you quit nicotine.” </p><p>Penelope presses a button so the window rolls down. “I did.”</p><p>In a few seconds, smoke starts to slowly fill the air around them. Josie holds her breath on instinct but gives up after a short moment. She’s too drunk to keep it together like this and besides, there’s a small part of her that enjoys inhaling the smoke. It’s a punishment she deserves. The foul scent, the chemicals in her lungs, the way it makes her cough a little after a minute.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Josie squirms. “Please talk. Say something.”</p><p>They have to live with the silence and the smoke for a couple more minutes until Penelope finally does listen to Josie and speaks.</p><p>“I’m not mad at you. More at myself, actually.” Penelope looks at Josie and Josie looks at Penelope. It’s borderline unsettling. They both glance away. “I haven’t been there for you. We really haven’t been there for each other.”</p><p>Josie twists around so she can lay on her side, watching Penelope. “I know, I-“</p><p>“I think we should take a break.”</p><p>The air, the smoke, everything keeping the car livable gets sucked out of it. Penelope puts her cigarette to her lips and inhales so much that her eyes water while Josie kicks open the door and sticks her head out of it. Vomit rolls out of her body, all watery liquid and sour taste burning the back of her throat. It splashes against the ground and doesn’t stop until Josie is empty like a hollow fruit that someone has dug their spoon into again and again. </p><p>Even when she’s empty, she doesn’t feel clean. It’s the same as it was before. Her insides are still there, as rotten as ever, rattling her stomach and shaking her bones. </p><p>“You okay?” Penelope calls, her words sounding distant and underwater. </p><p>“Obviously not.” </p><p>Penelope shifts in her seat enough to reach out and slowly rub Josie’s back, calming her down enough that Josie can sit back up and wipe her mouth with her sleeve. She feels gross, but that’s fine. Being gross in front of Penelope has been okay since she got the flu in their freshman year of college and accidentally got snot all over Penelope’s arm.</p><p>“I’m gonna call Lizzie so she knows where you are.” She tosses the cigarette stump out the window then opens up the door far enough to crush it with her heel. “Then I’m going to take you home. Okay?”</p><p>“Okay.” Josie nods shakily.</p><p>So, they do just that. Penelope calls Lizzie to explain (almost) everything and then drives Josie home, occasionally offering her water from the backseat or fruit-flavored mints. All of it makes Josie’s heartache grow, how sweet Penelope is to her even with how bad Josie has been for the past couple months.</p><p>She wants to cry, but she doesn’t. </p><p>Whatever scrap of decency she has keeps Josie from it - she knows Penelope hates seeing her tears. </p><p> </p><p>Josie half-expects Penelope to call her up sometime in the following two weeks, either to try and mend things or to yell. Most likely to yell, or insult her unexpectedly. Penelope is like a snake when she’s angry, you don’t even really realize how dangerous she is until she’s wrapped around your neck and squeezing.</p><p>Despite Josie’s expectations, all of July is quiet. It gets to the point where Josie’s pillows lose Penelope’s scent and her cherry shampoo grows bone-dry in Josie’s bathroom. Penelope’s bake sinks lower and lower in Josie’s recent texts, she falls off of her best friend’s list on Snapchat (something that irks Josie to no end, no matter how stupid it is that she values their two years of streaks), and Josie changes her four egg, Saturday omelette to a two egg, Saturday omelette. </p><p>The ache in her chest never goes away, it just grows and grows like Penelope has recently died and Josie is being forced to relive that death. That’s dramatic, but Penelope has made her so. She’s woven her way into Josie’s personality, so that Josie can quote Shakespeare, loathes olives, and hasn’t met a new person without over analyzing them first. All Penelope habits, made Josie habits. </p><p>How is she supposed to get over her? Their bond is almost as strong as Josie’s with Lizzie’s.</p><p>For example, Josie gets the strong sense that Lizzie is going to show up when she wakes up one day, halfway through July. Lizzie’s knock is greeting her door an hour later, when Josie is pushing around two cracked eggs in a buttered pan. </p><p>“Okay. I could deal with it when you missed my red, white, and blue ensemble for the Fourth of July, and I could dodge dad’s questions - but this is just bad. You’re not answering his texts. Or mine.” Lizzie leans against the kitchen counter, frowning at Josie’s careless shrug. She glances down at the pan. “There are shells in your omelette.” </p><p>“It’s fine.” Josie shrugs, turning the omelette into more of a scramble with her spatula. </p><p>There are four small shells in the eggs, cracked little triangles swimming in the quickly cooking yolks. They annoy her, but she’s trying to push that irritation down. Josie never cared about eggshells before Penelope. </p><p>“You hate shells in your-“</p><p>“No, Penelope hates shells in her eggs.” Josie interrupts, her voice tightly coiled and her knuckles white on the handle of the spatula. She isn’t yelling, but the anger is there. “And olives. She hates olives. I happen to love them, so.”</p><p>Not really knowing what she’s doing, Josie abandons the eggs to go through her cupboard. She barely registers Lizzie behind her, turning the knob to lower the flame under the pan a little. When Josie finds what she’s looking for - an old, opened jar of olives - she spins back around and twists it open, just to mindlessly through a handful into her eggs. </p><p>It smells. </p><p>Like, it really smells. Worse than Penelope’s clothing after a run or three cigarettes. </p><p>Lizzie pulls the collar of her crop top up over her nose. “God, that’s bad. How old is it?”</p><p>Josie doesn’t have to check the date to know. She hasn’t eaten olives in years. Not as a personal choice, but because of one of her first nights in college. Penelope and Josie had sat on the floor of this exact apartment, sharing whatever snacks they could afford, and when Josie had offered olives Penelope had explained her hatred for them. So, Josie had set them away after opening them and hadn’t really looked at them since.</p><p>A touching story to some, but now it makes Josie cry. </p><p>“It’s okay.” Lizzie’s arms are around her instantly. She holds Josie for what feels like forever, until the shaking and little, pathetic noises stop. After a moment passes, Lizzie nudges her gently. “It doesn’t smell that bad. You can lighten up.”</p><p>Josie laughs, bringing her palms up to her face to wipe the lingering tears out of her eyes. “It’s weird. You’re comforting me this time.” </p><p>“Hey, I can comfort people.” </p><p>This makes Josie laugh more but instead of getting angry, Lizzie just presses her lips tightly together and shakes her head. They break their embrace so Josie can turn off the stove and scrape her pan clean into the trash. She’s not even that hungry. The eggs were pretty much just there so she wouldn’t starve and her vegetables wouldn’t go bad, but so much for that. </p><p>They sit in her living room on the couch. Lizzie does what Lizzie always does - she talks. It’s nice this time though, because Lizzie’s excessive chatter gives Josie a moment to collect herself without having anyone stare right at her. </p><p>“We should go out. Not just for food, but later tonight.” Seeing Josie’s disapproving look, Lizzie bats a hand in the air. “I’m not saying you have to do anything with anyone, but you should get used to the idea of if. It’s not like you were gonna get old and raise little devils with Penelope.”</p><p>“Lizzie.” Josie sighs. </p><p>“What? Don’t defend her.” </p><p>It takes a second, but it sinks in that Lizzie is probably right. No matter how the relationship ended, Josie needs to get back out there. She had never pictured being one of those people who goes from high school to marriage anyways.</p><p>“I guess we can go out.” Josie shrugs. Lizzie’s smile comes in, catlike and devious.</p><p>That is the start of a long cycle of Lizzie taking her out almost every night for the rest of the summer. They go to random bars, nightclubs, and also basically everywhere Lizzie thinks there might be lesbians, bisexuals, or just generally anyone with a heartbeat who might want to let their heart beat for Josie. Of course, none of it really works.</p><p>Their breakup is still a fresh wound, a tear in Josie’s skin, and she doesn’t think that any of the many people Lizzie introduces her to could patch it up. </p><p>She goes anyways, because spending time with her sister is less pathetic than sitting at home alone with too much pizza or ramen. Each night is a blur of drinks and dancing, all of it spinning in her mind because she’s either hungover or too intoxicated to walk. The world passes her by in parties and body shots off of people who don’t have Penelope’s silver scar above their belly button. </p><p>Her pajamas turn into a tight, purple dress and a black push-up bra, and Lizzie basically becomes her roommate again. It’s the teenage life she’s never had, so different from her quiet nights of homework and microwaved dinners that smell like stir fry with a side of chemicals. </p><p>Days and weeks pass until Josie turns into that same giggly drunk girl who someone always ends up hooking up with at the end of the night. More often than not, Josie takes home a girl. She doesn’t really have a preference in most cases, but this is the summer of lookalikes with short brown hair and a teasing little smile that makes Josie throb with arousal, despite the fact that she knows it shouldn’t. </p><p>The only pause in this cycle comes with a knock on the door one morning, a couple days before school is scheduled to start. </p><p>Lizzie, who is sprawled out on the floor but clutching the bottom of the couch, groans openly and practically sobs at the sound. She pulls herself together while Josie presses the heels of her palms to her eyes, wondering aloud who the fuck could be knocking on her door so early. The second she fully opens her eyes, Josie’s entire body gets hit with one full wave of nausea, so she decides to shut her eyes and let Lizzie do the talking.</p><p>About a minute passes of quiet whispers.</p><p>“Josie!” Lizzie eventually calls, not sounding too pleased at all. “The Grim Reaper is here. Beware. She may steal your soul.”</p><p>There are more murmurs, the sound of a door closing, and footsteps that don’t sound the same as Lizzie’s usual heavy-footed morning walk. Josie’s heart leaps up to her throat and stays there so it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s as if she entered a horror movie and is suddenly being stalked by a killer, creepy music and all. </p><p>And there’s Penelope Park, practically standing over her with a knife and a crazed smile. </p><p>Not really, though. Only in the metaphorical sense. In reality, Penelope looks better than Josie expected. Her skin is clear, hair brushed out of her face, lips wet from some kind of gloss. Just when Josie has a little hope that Penelope got all dolled up for her, her eyes trace down to Penelope’s baggy sweatshirt and the truth sets in. Penelope isn’t trying to impress her, she’s just doing better with this than Josie ever could.</p><p>“Hey.” Penelope says, keeping her face neutral even though Josie must smell like a bar and look as if she’s gotten her ass kicked multiple times. </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>The air is filled with that chemical cherry scent from Penelope’s shampoo, the same smell that Josie had tried to desperately keep in her apartment just weeks ago. That half-empty bottle is still sitting somewhere in Josie’s bathroom, which means Penelope must have gone and gotten a new one. Like it was no big deal. Like, they could spend years together and Penelope could go and fix things by visiting a CVS with less than five dollars in her pocket. It’s irrational and stupid, but it makes Josie want to cry. </p><p>Penelope stares at her for a moment, seems to sense her sadness, and then wordlessly starts to pick the empty bottles off of Josie’s floor. “You look like a New York City cockroach when the lights come on.”</p><p>“Wow.” Josie frowns. “Thanks.”</p><p>“I meant you look like you want to run.”</p><p>Josie sighs, louder than she’d meant to. She feels as if she’s gotten too stupid to work out Penelope’s words, like an athlete who has stopped hitting the gym. Her brain is a muscle and she hasn’t been using it. These days, she’s actually been wrecking it - and probably her liver, too.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Josie asks after a moment. </p><p>She turns on her side to watch Penelope gather the bottles and then throw them away. Josie would protest or do it herself, but just sitting up has suddenly turned into an extreme chore that she doesn’t want to face right now. </p><p>God, she must look like shit. </p><p>“I’m cleaning.” Penelope shrugs. Josie scoffs and they make eye contact. For a second, Josie uses her eyes to coax Penelope into admitting the truth, but the familiarity of it seems to burn them both so they look away. “And I came to talk to you about… things. Can I sit down?” </p><p>Josie nods hesitantly and Penelope plants herself right beside her, but doesn’t look at her. Josie expects a pause before they get into it, but Penelope inhales once and then says it all in her exhale. </p><p>“I miss you. I came over here to tell you that and to see if this break could be over. But-“</p><p>“But?” Josie interjects, sounding so much like a puppy that Penelope’s hand noticeably twitches at her side with the obvious urge to touch Josie. </p><p>Penelope, resisting that urge, just keeps talking. “Well, look at you, Josie. This is bad. It’s like… it’s like you can’t function without me, and I don’t want you to be like that. Do you even know school is starting soon? You’re Mr. Brown’s assistant this year. Did you even prepare?”</p><p>“Of course.” </p><p>It’s an incredibly unconvincing lie. Even if it was the truth, what Penelope just stumbled in on would make whatever Josie says seem like a lie.</p><p>The next few minutes are hell. Penelope starts collecting her things from Josie’s apartment, something Josie never thought that Penelope would do. She takes her hoop earrings off the nightstand, her spare socks, her shampoo, and leaves all of the dumb little things that will make Josie cling to her but never really be satisfied. During this whole process, Josie tries to get up time and time again but always sits down as soon as her word tilts on its axis.</p><p>Throwing up would make this so much worse, even though literally watching Penelope walk out of her life still feels terrible. </p><p>“Just call me when you get your shit together, okay?” Penelope says, and then shuts the door behind her as she goes. </p><p>Josie likes the certainty of that sentence. Not ‘if’ you get your shit together, ‘when’. It makes this whole thing seem as if it will just be something they’ll have a somber discussion about later in bed, not the big blimp in the road Josie has made it out to be. </p><p>It gives Josie the strength to get to her feet. Once she’s on her feet, she’s able to force herself out the door. She quickly thinks up this whole big plan to run after Penelope and get her back, but as she goes out into the hallway she immediately trips over something and hits the cold floor. </p><p>“Oh, sorry dear.” Ms. Pepper, Josie’s (former) neighbor says from the doorway. </p><p>Josie looks over her shoulder at the box she tripped over, making sure it isn’t dented. Right. She had forgotten that Ms. Pepper is moving and someone else is moving in. </p><p>“It’s fine.” Josie pushes herself up again and, considering Penelope’s earlier words and her neighbor’s old age, lingers in the hall. “Do you need help with your boxes?” </p><p> </p><p>The morning school starts, Josie wakes up sober and alone. This is good for two reasons. One, it means that her plan of going out with Lizzie while avoiding alcohol worked and she hasn’t developed a codependency on it. Two, it means that the girl she was fucking last night had gotten the hint and left after their sweaty time together. </p><p>The girl had been way too loud, considering she wasn’t even the one getting pounded by seven inches of Josie’s brand new toy. Not to mention that they had been interrupted by someone knocking on her door, like a child, and adding a whole twenty minutes to that already strenuous activity. </p><p>It doesn’t matter though, because Josie has been set straight. Her mind is full of motivational quotes and ambition, eyes set on a new future. A better future. One where a girl doesn’t control her life and she can do whatever she wants. She’s earned that, the same way she’s earned her spot as Mr. Brown’s assistant and the same way she’ll earn everything else from now on - alone. </p><p>Josie skips the eggs for a peanut butter and banana protein smoothie so she can drink it on the go. She has to be early to meet up with Mr. Brown ten minutes before class, so that’s just what she does. Josie shows up on time, wearing her favorite sweater and a skirt, looking very professional and smelling better than she has for half of the summer. </p><p>“It’s the first day, so I just want you to take some light notes of what goes on and anything you think is important.” When Mr. Brown smiles, the wrinkles around his kind eyes deepen just a bit. “That stool right there is yours. I might ask you to get up for little things later, but probably not today.”</p><p>“Okay, thanks.” Josie nods quickly, soaking up all of this information. </p><p>He squints at his watch. “Seven more minutes. I’m going to use the restroom really quick.”</p><p>That leaves Josie standing there alone, looking around the empty classroom. It feels so much bigger looking at it from the angle she’s at. When she sat with the rest of the students, it seemed almost small with how many people were surrounding her. Now it seems as if there’s miles and miles of space. It’s overwhelming and exciting at the same time. She’s not ashamed to admit that she feels a little breathless when she sits on the stool. </p><p>About five minutes before class starts, people start to wander in. Some of them are fresh-faced and smiling while others look as if they still haven’t gotten around to waking up. Josie keeps her eyes on the open door, waiting for one face in particular. Penelope is in this class. It’s pathetic to admit, especially with her new outlook on life and everything, but her new outlook on life seems to barely matter if Penelope isn’t here to see it.</p><p>Only one face really ends up catching her eye. </p><p>It’s strange, because at first Josie thinks that she’s looking at a very small, dainty boy. All she sees is flannel peeking out of a baggy hoodie and bits of auburn hair, but then the girl pulls her hood back and reveals she’s not a boy at all. </p><p>Her hair is surprisingly long and frames her face well, coming down to curl at her shoulders. Almost everything about this girl is a surprise, actually. The blue in her eyes catches Josie in a trap, suddenly she’s growing unable to pull her mouth away from this girl’s lips. They look so soft and pink, like the inside of a particularly sweet strawberry. Not to mention she’s biting the bottom one, drawing it between pearly white teeth nervously and unknowingly making Josie grip the wood of her stool a little too hard.</p><p>Josie has never wanted to fuck someone she just met so badly. </p><p>The girl is looking back. It’s only then that Josie notices how scared the girl looks, and decides to rein in the ogling. </p><p>As they cross paths, Josie tries to morph her face into something gentle and welcoming, offering a smile. The girl smiles back, but then looks down as if that was a mistake and rushes up the stairs to the very back row again. </p><p>Josie finds herself staring for much too long. It’s been awhile since she’s met someone who looks like that who doesn’t act as if she owns the room. That girl is gorgeous, and yet Josie gets the sense that no one has ever shown her a mirror before. </p><p>The staring goes on until the classroom is filled and the door closes, until Mr. Brown is saying something to the class that Josie doesn’t really catch and then turning to write his name on the board. Josie stares and stares, not even moving her eyes for awhile because she gets so lost in the sudden rush of thoughts in her head that she doesn’t notice how creepy she’s being.</p><p>Anyways, Mr. Brown is looking at her.</p><p>“Oh.” She says awkwardly. “I’m Josie.” </p><p>Josie forces her eyes away, pulling herself out of the fantasy she’d been unconsciously forming. </p><p>Two things are wrong here. </p><p>One, Penelope didn’t show up to class, and two, Josie has become hornier than a depraved teenage boy dumped into a sea of porn. </p><p> </p><p>Josie ends up having sex every night that week, but it’s unsatisfying and leaves her sore more days than not. Most people would tell her to just stop if she isn’t enjoying it, but if she stops this then she stops everything and then there’s nothing going on in her boring life besides helping grade papers and trying to get her abs back. </p><p>It doesn’t help at all that when Penelope does finally come into class, she’s with Hope (that gorgeous girl whose name Josie only knows because of mild-stalking). They’ve become friends, which is the nightmare of all nightmares. Of course Penelope befriends the prettiest girl in this class with no effort at all and shows up everyday to rub it in Josie’s face - how does everyone stay so effortlessly perfect?</p><p>Josie wishes she could be like that. </p><p>Instead she feels seconds away from someone noticing what’s wrong with her. She’s waiting for Mr. Brown to point out her nearly constant hickies or for some neighbor to come yell at her about the late night sex. </p><p>Especially the neighbor part. She has someone that lives near her that keeps knocking on the door right when Josie is in the middle of sex, but when she goes out into the hall to check who it is they’re gone. It’s kind of annoying. Random hook ups are weird enough for Josie without someone’s knock totally pulling her out of the moment and making her realize that, yes, she is using stress to cope. </p><p>The only person she’ll accept distracting her right now is Hope, and it’s not like Hope is living on her floor. Josie has enough sense to notice that type of thing. </p><p>“Morning, Hope.” Josie blurts, watching Hope set down her paper on Mr. Brown’s desk one day.</p><p>Hope looks taken aback for a moment and Josie feels sort of stupid, because with hundreds of students it could be a little strange for Josie to know her name. She casts that thought aside, assuring herself that it isn’t completely weird. Plus, Hope usually wears that awkward, ‘shocked to be alive’ look whenever Josie sees her. </p><p>“Morning.” Hope replies. </p><p>Josie fiddles with her own fingers, feeling warm all over like a teenager. She’s never heard a girl speak with a voice that low (and somehow so attractive) and still smile as if she was greeting a group of kindergarteners. It’s endearing and hot and every other compliment under the sun. Josie is so close to continuing the conversation and saying something to Hope, but she blinks and suddenly Hope is dashing up the stairs and joining Penelope. </p><p>She squints to watch Penelope stare at Hope while Hope looks everywhere else, but then the lesson starts and Penelope blatantly looks down at Josie. </p><p>They share this look. It only works because of how familiar they are with each other and how their eyes still seem to seek each other out sometimes like two dogs barking in the night. It’s a look that says ‘what the hell are you doing with Hope’ and it goes both ways. </p><p>Eventually Penelope looks away and Josie starts going through all of the papers the class turned in at Mr. Brown’s request.</p><p>It’s not like she’s going to grade them right in front of everybody, so Josie is pretty much just flipping through the pages and trying not to frown at some of the cliche essay topics. </p><p>Everyone is basically just explaining what job they want once they’re out of college or talking about how committed they are to their schoolwork. It’s not bad exactly, but it sure isn’t fun to read. Josie is pretty bored until she comes across Hope’s paper. </p><p>Hope goes into detail about how she’s planning on using these four years to (semi-forcefully) push herself out into the world. She gets carried away and rambles a little on the third paragraph, but overall Hope’s need to be better than she is at any means necessary is moving. </p><p>So, that makes Hope Mikaelson intelligent, attractive, and witty enough to keep up with Penelope. </p><p>Shit. </p><p>Josie is way too old for crushes. </p><p>“Could you write the homework on the board for me?” Mr. Brown asks, already handing Josie a marker. She nods and does as she’s told.</p><p>Coincidentally, she gets done writing just as Hope and Penelope are walking out. </p><p>“Hope.” Josie calls. </p><p>She isn’t sure what she’s doing, but looking at both of them smiling at each other like that had stirred up an odd mix of jealousy that Josie doesn’t like - she can’t want both Penelope and Hope, that’s against the rules. </p><p>Besides, she can’t want Penelope at all. Not when Penelope is death-glaring at her.</p><p>For the first time, Josie wonders if Penelope and Hope are dating instead of being just friends. </p><p>Josie knows how easy it is to fall in with Penelope Park, how Penelope can use the same spoon she used to scoop you out to fill you up with feminist books and her positive outlook on the world that she’ll swear comes with marijuana. </p><p>She also remembers what it’s like falling in love with Penelope. Wrapping herself in cherry scented everything, laughing her throat sore in a car headed towards a party, not expecting it at all and then suddenly waking up with their hearts intertwined. Josie remembers it all, even staring at her too long in class and getting caught up in the memory of Penelope’s head between her legs, her mouth on her thighs, her tongue inching closer to her clit.</p><p>Sex is probably a terrible coping mechanism.</p><p>“Yeah?” Hope asks.</p><p>“Can I talk to you about your paper?” Josie glances at Penelope, noting how tense she looks. “Alone.”</p><p>“I’ll be outside.” Penelope grumbles, taking the hint. </p><p>Josie and Hope stare at each other. Or more, Hope stares at Josie’s legs while Josie memorizes the lines of Hope’s face and they both seem to pretend not to notice. </p><p>“Your paper was really good.” Josie tells her, breaking the silence. “Different than I expected.” </p><p>Hope looks away. “Yeah, sorry about that.” </p><p>“No. Different is good. Different is better.” </p><p>Hope’s skin is so pale that when she blushes it looks almost as if there’s a rose blooming just under her skin. Josie wants to reach out and touch her cheek, just to feel the heat and ask if she’s blushing because of Josie - but this isn’t a gay bar on the outskirts of town, this is a classroom. </p><p>“Was that all?” Hope asks. Her eyes glance down at Josie’s thighs and then away to the door very quickly, her face getting redder than Josie thought was possible. </p><p>“Sorry. I think I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” Josie admits, chuckling lightly to herself.</p><p>“To talk to me?” </p><p>Josie has the decency to look embarrassed. She’s not used to trying to flirt with girls who aren’t at least two beers into the night. </p><p>“Yeah.” She says, nodding. “It’s always nice to meet a great writer, you know.”</p><p>Lame. </p><p>So lame. </p><p>It makes Hope smile though, in the way where it seems as if Hope doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, so it’s worth it. </p><p>“Thank you.” Hope replies, lingering for a second until Josie gives her a nod and then she leaves.</p><p>Josie sighs, leaning against the desk and tilting her head up to the ceiling.</p><p>She’s so cute. </p><p>Her skirt starts to vibrate, so Josie fishes her phone out of her pocket and checks who’s calling her. A picture of Lizzie sleeping with drool dripping down the side of her mouth flashes across Josie’s screen. </p><p>“Hey, Lizzie. What’s up?” Josie greets, pressing the phone to her ear.</p><p>“Hey.” Lizzie replies. “Do you want to go to a party this Saturday?” </p><p> </p><p>“Can you keep it down?” Her next-door neighbor asks one night, speaking through the wall. </p><p>Josie would answer, but there’s a boy in her bed who has his hand clamped over her mouth and she’s not really in the right state to be having a polite conversation right now, so she just fixes her eyes up at the boy and hopes he gets her message.</p><p>He does.</p><p>“Nope.” He calls back, and then dips down to bite at her stomach. </p><p> </p><p>The purple dress Josie is wearing almost makes it hard to breathe and her makeup feels suffocating on her face, but she looks good and she knows it. Lizzie tells her just that, but she doesn’t really need to. Every guy’s eyes in the party tell Josie that she needs to wear this dress more. The way people stare gives her a rush, makes it feel like all of this going out is worth it.</p><p>Unlike Lizzie, she doesn’t even mind when MG comes up to talk their ears off.</p><p>MG is more Penelope’s friend than Josie’s, but his heart is wide enough to fit everyone in this party. He also has a huge, obvious crush on Lizzie that’s been lingering since forever. </p><p>“You look really pretty tonight.” MG yells over the music, lights flashing over his charming grin and eager expression. All of his attention is on Lizzie, but he glances at Josie and nods at her, too. “You both do.” </p><p>“Thanks MG.” Josie replies at the same time Lizzie asks him to go get her a drink. </p><p>He’s gone in a second.</p><p>Josie sighs, trying to give her sister a disapproving look that doesn’t really work because of the darkness of the room and (probably) Lizzie avoiding it. The whole bitchy attitude doesn’t work on Lizzie anymore, not when Josie has seen how kind Lizzie can be when she’s trying. She looks almost out of place, trying to slip that queen bee mask back onto her face.</p><p>“I thought you liked him.” Josie nudges Lizzie’s side now so she can’t be ignored.</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna associate with Satan’s best friend.”</p><p>There’s the unexpected pain of the breakup. The part where Penelope was so deep in Josie’s life that she even affected Lizzie, and now as the relationship untangles so does one of the things that made Lizzie a better person. She misses seeing Lizzie smile. It’s the first time Josie realizes that while she had been on her downward spiral of going out every night, so had Lizzie. </p><p>“It’s okay to-“ But MG comes back, and Josie swallows her words.</p><p>They look tense next to each other. MG staring at Lizzie and Lizzie looking almost everywhere else with no real interest. </p><p>“I’m gonna dance.” Josie says. If guilt was audible, she’s sure it would be thick in her throat.</p><p>So, Josie disappears into the crowd. She becomes another nameless face at the party, hidden by drunk people and the blaring sound of the music. Her bullshit suddenly doesn’t matter, neither does the fact that she doesn’t know any of the lyrics to whatever song is playing. For once, she gets to blend in and be everybody else instead of just being herself. </p><p>It’s amazing. </p><p>It’s phenomenal. </p><p>It’s Penelope Park, standing in front of Josie with bloodshot eyes and a frown that sucks the air out of the room. </p><p>“Can we talk?” Penelope yells, trying to be heard over the music.</p><p>In any other circumstance, Josie would jump at the chance to air things out with her, but right now this is exactly what Josie didn’t want. No one comes to parties to face their problems head on. Still, if she passes up this opportunity she’ll hate herself in the morning.</p><p>“Only if we’re dancing.” Josie replies. </p><p>Another bad decision. Penelope rolls her eyes, smile too fond to be sober, and tangles her hands behind Josie’s neck like she’s just meant to be there. She invades Josie’s space, forces the scent of marijuana into Josie’s nose and fishes that winning smirk out just to push it into Josie’s vision. </p><p>It’s too much too fast, but Josie won’t give her the satisfaction of saying that. </p><p>“So.” Penelope leans up on her toes to reach Josie’s ear. “What’s with you and Hope?”</p><p>“I could ask you the same question.” </p><p>Penelope looks away, ducks her head even though Josie is taller than her. Josie knows Penelope is blushing even though it’s too dark to see, she recognizes the look of early infatuation. </p><p>Penelope used to look at her like that.</p><p>“Nothing is happening with Hope and I.” Josie presses on, now reluctant to hear Penelope’s answer to the question she asked. “She’s pretty, but we haven’t really talked. There’s nothing to worry about.”</p><p>It feels wrong, saying that there’s nothing to worry about when she isn’t sure if Penelope is worried about Josie getting with Hope or Hope getting with Josie. </p><p>“Good.” Penelope says. </p><p>It’s so unfair how one simple word stirs up anxiety inside of Josie, how she’s suddenly hungry for more answers and more information about Penelope that she’s lost. Does she like someone else now? Did she see that new movie with the hot actress that just came out? Has she been skipping breakfast and eating dinner? </p><p>“Good?” Josie prompts, hoping for more. </p><p>Penelope nods once and leaves as quickly as she came, disappearing like smoke in the air but leaving Josie’s skin cold where Penelope touched her. </p><p>She suddenly doesn’t feel like dancing, but she definitely doesn’t feel like going home either, so Josie goes ahead and makes the bad decision: she looks for alcohol. </p><p>It stings her throat and hurts her chest when she finds it, but it also gives her something to focus on other than Penelope and Hope. Josie wanders out onto the dance floor again, but this time it feels different. It’s almost as if she has an obligation to do this, to force herself to be (or to appear) okay. She’s nearing okay, looking like a bombshell on the outside and feeling as if a hurricane has crushed her insides. </p><p>Only minutes pass before someone else interrupts her dancing. Whoever it is, they crash into her back and immediately start spewing out apology after apology. When Josie turns, she isn’t surprised to see that it’s Hope. Partially because she wouldn’t expect anyone else to apologize more than five times without a response, but mostly because Josie’s life is turning into a gay romance movie and this is the part where Hope swoops back in. </p><p>Josie just smiles, feeling the full effect of the alcohol and accepting her fate - whatever that may be. </p><p>Besides, it definitely isn’t the worst thing in the world to dance with Hope. She looks better than usual, in her skinny jeans and tight tank top. It’s simple, but Josie likes it anyways. She also likes how Hope grins at every little move of Josie’s hips, how Hope’s eyes follow along Josie’s body in a way that makes Josie remember some people think she’s beautiful.</p><p>That sudden urge sinks in - the one she felt on the very first day of class. The urge that makes her want to know the ins and outs of Hope Mikaelson, wants to sit her down in a coffee shop or any fucking where and just talk for hours before this whole triangle clusterfuck spirals out of control. </p><p>Josie dips her head down towards Hope’s ear without another thought. “You want to get some air?”</p><p> </p><p>Josie isn’t sure how she ends up kissing her. </p><p>Well, she knows how. She’s the one who connects the space between their lips. She’s the one who tastes the alcohol on Hope’s tongue and feels the slight clumsiness of it and wonders if this is Hope’s first kiss - if this is Hope’s first everything - but then continues on, not worrying about what she could potentially be stealing. She’s the one who calls an Uber, rushing into what could have been an amazing relationship. </p><p>There’s something wrong with her. Something self-destructive inside of Josie that just keeps going. </p><p>Some part of her fills with satisfaction, knowing that this being just another random hook up means Josie won’t have to deal with anything serious. The parts of her that aren’t satisfied are sad, because when Josie traces her fingers along Hope’s thighs in the car Hope’s face lights up both metaphorically and in red - and Josie hasn’t gotten anyone to look at her like that in awhile. </p><p>“Pretty.” Josie says, scraping her nails along Hope’s exposed stomach just to feel the immortality that comes with watching Hope squirm.</p><p>Almost everything in her mind is telling her to stop this right now, to take Hope when they’re both sober and when Josie has her head on straight, but her hand continues its journey as if it doesn’t take orders from her brain at all. </p><p>She lets the driver get them to her apartment and when Josie starts taking out money to pay the man, she just blames her hands for everything. It’s easier that way. It’s not her - it’s the invisible force that counts out tens while absentmindedly rubbing Hope’s ankle. </p><p>“You live here?” Hope asks. </p><p>“Yeah.” Josie blinks down at her hands. Answering requires some part of her brain to function properly, which she doesn’t really like right now. “Why? You know the building?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Hope doesn’t expand on that and Josie is glad for it. </p><p>After paying, they head up to Josie’s apartment. Hope looks a little unsteady on her feet, but Josie just figures she’s a lightweight. They get to Josie’s floor without a problem, but suddenly Hope is laughing loudly behind her. </p><p>Josie turns around, startled by the Joker laugh but not wanting to form an unnecessary sentence.</p><p>“I live here.” Hope says, making Josie nod. </p><p>That is pretty laughable. They could have just passed each other a million times. Josie’s life really is a gay romance movie. All that’s left is a random man to show up and ruin the storyline. </p><p>“Hold this.” Josie hands Hope her purse and starts to get her key out, but Hope just stares at her with a suddenly solemn expression. </p><p>“You live here?” Hope looks around. “Like, alone? With no roommates?” </p><p>Okay, so Hope is a bit of a weird drunk. Whatever. Josie can deal. </p><p>“Yep.” Josie opens her door. “Where’s yours?”</p><p>Hope stands there for a moment, looking so stupid and well-fucked (messy hair, reddened lips, wide Bambi eyes) that Josie thinks about just pulling Hope into her apartment without another word. </p><p>She’s going to do just that when Hope reaches over and taps the apartment next to Josie’s. </p><p>“Wait. You’re the asshole that lives next door?” Even though Josie tries to keep the anger out of her voice, it seeps in anyways. </p><p>“Asshole?” Hope questions. “You’re the one that keeps me up at night.” </p><p>Hope sounds mad - she’s hot when she’s angry - so Josie, like a dumbass, just decides to be madder. </p><p>“Well, you ruin sex. I’m trying to fuck someone and suddenly you’re ding-dong ditching me.” Josie’s voice is louder than she expected, but Hope doesn’t flinch. </p><p>“You don’t even have a doorbell.”</p><p>Josie is ashamed to say that she misses this, the fighting. Sometimes fighting is good. Sometimes fighting is healthy. Sometimes it ends in sex or apologizes or the betterment of a relationship. She wishes that Penelope would show up at her door and just scream at her. </p><p>“Fine, then.” Josie says, feeling more satisfied by this encounter than by all of the sex she’s had this summer combined. “You’re knock-knock ditching me. Either way, it’s annoying.”</p><p>“Well, you’re annoying.” Hope pipes up immediately. Josie has to fight a grin. </p><p>“You’re annoying, too.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a moment, both of them breathless. Josie wants to give up on the argument and just kiss Hope already, but she fights the urge. She needs this argument to go on somehow, needs someone to treat her like the asshole she is. </p><p>Josie glances down at her purse, which Hope is still holding, and makes her decision. She opens her door and disappears into her apartment without anyone word. </p><p>As soon as she’s on the other side of the door, Josie leans against it and tries to catch her breath. She licks her lips, tasting a violent mix of Hope, alcohol, and the extra saliva that comes from yelling. It feels amazing - wild and reckless in a way Josie has never enjoyed before, but now craves like an addict. </p><p>Maybe there’s something wrong with that (something wrong with her), but for now she can go to bed without the sex and wake up excited for the next day, and that’s all Josie has really been after.</p><p> </p><p>The first hour of the next day kind of sucks. Josie wakes up to a bad hangover, her sheets too hot against her skin and her head throbbing. Her phone has a single text from Lizzie, one from earlier in the night that wonders if Josie is okay and then breaks off to talk about how MG won’t leave her alone. Josie can’t help but imagine Lizzie waking up a couple minutes after Josie, naked next to MG and fake-complaining about it.</p><p>Since that’s her first thought of the day, her first action of the day is to lean over and vomit right next to her bed. So, now she has puke on her carpet.</p><p>Fun times. </p><p>She takes a shower that turns her skin red, eats something with too many carbs, goes through the motions of hangover recovery that she’s so used to. If anyone were to see her, Josie thinks that they would claim that her life looks a little sad. All alone in a nice apartment, half-heartedly cleaning vomit out of her formerly clean carpet. No one is here to witness all of this, so Josie just accepts how sad she must look in silence and thanks god that there will never be anyone around to bring up this whole thing again.</p><p>Josie’s mind ends up catching on that thought and suddenly she’s thinking about how no one is really around to love her at all, which quickly leads to her sitting on her floor in the living room and trying not to cry. </p><p>Sometimes she gets kind of emotional when she’s hungover. She also thinks she’s going to get her period pretty soon. </p><p>Anyways, Josie is in the middle of trying to fight her tears away like a hormonal teenager that just broke up with her nicotine addicted boyfriend when someone knocks on her door. She breathes through her mouth rapidly then, trying to get herself together. It’s probably Lizzie or Hope on the other side of the door, and she doesn’t want to cry in front of either of them. </p><p>Despite her better efforts, she tastes salt in her mouth and feels her eyes burn as if she’d been stung by a bee. Her vision goes blurry and she laughs at herself (at the world and the universe, honestly, for making her be like this and then not even having the decency to put her in nice situations) before realizing what she has to do in order to stop crying. It’s been awhile since Josie has done it, but it always seems to work. </p><p>Josie sings the Spongebob Squarepants theme song under her breath (something that makes her feel like even more of a child) to compose herself, but once that’s over she gets up and goes to the door. She wiped what she hopes is the last of her leftover tears and then opens it.</p><p>It’s Penelope. </p><p>Josie almost slams the door in her face and yells ‘not today Satan’, but that’s not what people do in real life and it’s a little too much of a Lizzie move for her taste. Still, she wants Penelope gone for at least another hour. Josie would like the chance to brush the vomit-smell out of her mouth in peace. </p><p>“Have you been crying?” Penelope asks immediately, her hand coming up to do that thing where it seems as if she might touch Josie but then thinks better of it. </p><p>It almost sounds as if she cares. Josie hates it, but there’s no way out of this emotional turmoil, so she steps to the side and lets a few more tears slip as Penelope goes by her. Might as well just let it out. There’s no hiding herself from Penelope, not when she has already let Penelope know every tiny detail about her life. </p><p>This becomes even more obvious when Penelope walks into the apartment as if it was her own, goes ahead and sits down in the middle of two cushions on the couch like she paid for the furniture. Makes a home out of Josie’s life in seconds, does it as easily as breathing, and then looks at Josie and pats the spot next to her as if Josie is a dog and Penelope is her owner. </p><p>Josie feels tense all over, watching Penelope sit there. In her imagination, she has already yelled at Penelope and told her, albeit irrationally, that she’s not a dog and that she doesn’t want to have to walk around for the rest of her life with Penelope’s collar.</p><p>That sounds insane (and mindful kinky) so Josie decides to sit on the other side of the couch instead. </p><p>“Are those hickies?” Penelope questions. </p><p>Josie shrugs. Her neck is bare, her clothes are too big for her, and her own reflection scared her this morning, but she still feels the need to pull her sweater up over the little marks and keep some of her dignity. </p><p>“It’s not important.” She says. For once, that’s the truth. Hope is just next door (she’s the greener grass on the other side) and yet nothing seems as important as Penelope sitting with her right now. “I got drunk. It’s nothing serious.”</p><p>Penelope laughs. “You’re like a teenager.”</p><p>Josie hates how that laughter sounds so sweet and comforting that it almost immediately calms her, makes her shoulders sag and her heart a little less heavy. She forces the warmth away, remembering that Penelope isn’t supposed to have any effect on her, positive or negative. </p><p>“Yeah, well. It’s none of your business.” She sounds petty, but Penelope shuts up anyways. </p><p>“You’re right.” </p><p>Penelope sits for a moment in comfortable silence while Josie squirms next to her. She loves and hates how easy this seems to be for Penelope. It’s almost as if Josie’s home is still Penelope’s, like Josie has never really owned anything at all. All of it pisses her off to no end, but she’s never been one to start a fight unnecessarily, so she bites her tongue and stares at Penelope in hopes of getting another word out of her. </p><p>Penelope just sits until seconds stretch into minutes and minutes stretch into what feels like hours, staying perfectly still and composed - but then she exhales. </p><p>She exhales and it sounds so similar to a sob that Penelope’s next inhale is a choked gasp, her face suddenly turning pink and her eyes dancing around as if Josie had trapped them in a cage. </p><p>Josie is shuffling across the couch in a flash, coming to sit right beside Penelope and inspect her. If she didn’t know better (if she hadn’t spent many long hours curled on the bathroom floor with a sobbing, trembling Penelope) then she would just say that Penelope is crying, but there’s more panic along her face and she’s gripping at the couch like she’s lost the air in her lungs. </p><p>“It’s okay.” Josie tells her, getting on the ground and coming between Penelope’s parted knees but not actually touching her. “Look at me, Pen. I’m right here. You’re okay. You can breathe.”</p><p>The next breath Josie takes is dramatic and loud, just so she can show Penelope how the air is moving in through her mouth and into her lungs. She does it again and again until Penelope starts to join her. If Josie can breathe, then Penelope can too. It’s almost as if they share the same lifeline.</p><p>“You want me to get you some water?” She asks, after the moment has passed and Penelope seems okay. </p><p>Penelope nods, so Josie gets up and goes to the kitchen to return with a bottle of water from the freezer. She hands it to Penelope and lingers near her, watching Penelope take slow sips for a moment before finally stopping. </p><p>“Did you know I was coming?” Penelope questions. </p><p>Josie shakes her head, decides to kneel in front of Penelope again and steal a little bit of her warmth while she can. </p><p>“Why’s your water frozen, then?” Penelope shakes the botltle, watching the tiny chunks roll around. “You hate ice water. You said it makes your throat too cold.” </p><p>Penelope is right.</p><p>It does make Josie’s throat too cold, but she’s been putting a bottle of water in her freezer almost everyday because she’s always had the feeling that she’d need it for Penelope again. Call it stupid, call it blind hope, but here she is, giving Penelope water. Of course, she can’t tell Penelope or anyone else any of this, because that’s pathetic and it’s been too long for her to be holding onto little things such as her ex’s beverage choices. </p><p>So, she shrugs. “I kind of like it now.”</p><p>Penelope makes a face that says she’s about to call Josie out on her bullshit, but someone knocks on Josie’s door. Again. </p><p>Maybe she should just get some type of camera so she can know when people are coming along to fuck with her life or interrupt important moments. </p><p>“That’s probably Lizzie.” Josie sighs, standing up. </p><p>Penelope follows her. “I’m gonna go, then.”</p><p>“You don’t have to.” Josie blurts, feeling awkward and pathetic about saying it but letting the words fall out anyways. “You wanted to talk, right?” </p><p>“Yeah, but I’m not exactly in the mood to be called Satan by your sister right now.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Well, that’s totally fair.</p><p>Josie nods, resisting the urge to make Penelope promise that she’ll call. That’s too far into the sad ex-girlfriend zone for Josie, so she settles with walking Penelope to the door and silently hoping that Penelope will somehow read her mind like she always does. </p><p>Penelope opens the door, but of course it isn’t Lizzie standing there. It’s Hope, holding Josie’s purse and looking incredibly confused.</p><p>Let’s call this karma.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Can you believe I said I wasn’t going to get too into detail about the breakup and then wrote 4K words without Hope even showing up yet? </p><p>Anyways, I’ve gotten too into this fic so enjoy a quick update. </p><p>Talk to me about whatever on Tumblr/Twitter @thatoneurchin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. after.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Penelope has anxiety and that’s mentioned throughout the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Penelope feels stupid. </p><p>She’s been staring at the doorway of the classroom for a solid five minutes, lurking around it like some sort of creep. People she knows keep passing her, either giving her strange looks and sometimes saying hello first. Penelope has been giving a lot of polite nods, no waves - the skin around her nails is red and bitten to pieces. Class starts in a minute and yet she’s just waiting outside, frozen in place. </p><p>She hadn’t smoked this morning. </p><p>Several more people rush past her and eventually someone comes to close the door. The lecture starts inside the room without her, and all Penelope can about is how when she’d woken up she had held her lighter in her hands for a moment before she’d set it on the nightstand carelessly. Penelope paces just outside the room, knowing she could probably open the door and get away with being late, but making no move to do so. </p><p>The sleeves of her sweater are pulled down past her fingers. She digs her nails into the fabric hard enough to feel a slight sting on her palms, feeling the knot in her chest tighten.</p><p>Penelope tries to inhale, finds she can’t even do that, and steadies herself against the wall. She focuses on her breathing, praying she won’t have a panic attack out in public like this. </p><p>It’s just one class. </p><p>Besides, missing it is better than seeing Josie before she’s ready. And apparently, Penelope is totally not ready. She had at least expected to make it into the room, but baby steps are okay. She just needs to find what works for her. (God, Penelope feels weird reciting things therapists used to tell her, because she kind of hated every therapist she met). </p><p>After a moment of thinking it over, Penelope decides she’ll wait for class to end. That way, when everyone comes out of class she can ask someone for their notes. </p><p>For now, she sinks to the floor and takes out her phone. Penelope fishes earbuds from her pocket, gets music playing within minutes and falls back into the bad habit of thinking about her ex within seconds. </p><p>It’s just, Josie is Josie. She’s the girl who cries over Disney movies and has a weirdly strong right hook. Being with her is like being alone sometimes, in the sense that Penelope can live freely and Josie will thrive alongside her - but then again, being alone is being alone. Even if they loved each other, they weren’t good together. </p><p>Penelope had to keep telling herself that she was doing the right thing. Even if it fucking sucked to wake up alone every morning and fall asleep cold and untouched, Penelope had to look to the future. Maybe there was an older version of them that had settled into ‘just friends’. Maybe they got brunch on Sundays and didn’t end up making out in the back of Penelope’s car. Maybe there’s a world in their distant future where they’re split apart just like this, but happiness still comes and chooses to stick around sometimes. </p><p>Or maybe Penelope made the biggest mistake of her life. </p><p>She picks at the edge of her skirt, imagining what it would be like if she busted down the door right now and marched right up to Josie. Penelope wonders if Josie is cleaned up from the last time Penelope saw her, if she would taste like alcohol or mint toothpaste. She wonders if she should kiss Josie either way, apologize and then drag them both out to couples counselling. </p><p>The door swings open and people start to flood out of the classroom. Penelope loses all faith in her fantasy in a second. She decides she’s being crazy and needs to focus on finding someone approachable to ask about notes. </p><p>There’s a flash of auburn hair and suddenly someone is rushing past Penelope, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere or get away from someone. Penelope isn’t one to run, especially when she’s in a crappy mood, so she tries to find someone else. There are hundreds of kids from the class walking around her and yet she keeps craning her neck to get a look at the back of that girl’s head. </p><p>Penelope doesn’t even have a weak spot for redheads but she sighs and starts jogging to catch up anyways. </p><p>“Hey.” Penelope greets, trying to be quick about it. The girl has the energy of a humming bird, she looks almost as if Penelope had approached her with a gun. “Did you come from Mr. Brown’s class?” </p><p>The girl keeps walking and doesn’t say a word. Penelope would take that as her cue to back off, except the girl keeps on staring at Penelope with her bottom lip sucked into her mouth and these wide, blue eyes like she wants to talk but hasn’t decided on what to say yet. Awkward anxious girl with other awkward anxious girl isn’t the best combo, but Penelope hasn’t spoken to a girl this pretty since Josie so she just opens her mouth again. </p><p>“I’m Penelope Park.” She pauses, searching Hope’s face expectantly for a response. Nothing comes. “I was supposed to be there but I couldn’t really bring myself to go in. My ex is the assistant. It’s a little awkward, you know?”</p><p>“Josie?” The girl asks and Penelope nods. </p><p>“Yeah, you must have met her.” </p><p>As they go down the stairs together, Penelope finds herself thinking about Josie again. She had been so happy about becoming an assistant that she’d planned out her entire outfit as soon as she got the job. Penelope thought it was a little ridiculous (they actually got into a stupid fight about the whole thing), but now she thinks about Josie in that outfit and wonders if she went through with wearing it today. </p><p>Then Penelope realizes that the other girl is still staring at her and Penelope is still intruding on this poor girl’s day.</p><p>She rushes to get a sentence out. “Oh, so you were in Mr. Brown’s class, then. Can I see your notes?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>They stop and stand on the grass. Penelope watches the girl kneel to get her notes out of her backpack. She suddenly feels incredibly awkward, like there’s something wrong with her stomach and something weird about her arms and she just can’t stand properly. She sits in the grass beside the girl before the feeling in her chest gets to be too much. </p><p>“Here.” The girl hands the notebook over and Penelope takes out her phone to take pictures. </p><p>The other girl’s handwriting looks like a second grade boy’s, but Penelope kind of likes it. She likes the girl’s whole vibe actually, thinks it’s cute how the stranger drowns herself in a flannel and hoodie even though the sun is out. It makes her look so very small, in the way that’s kind of distracting with girls. </p><p>Penelope wants to ask her to stand up so they can compare heights, but that seems sort of rude and juvenile, so she finishes up with her pictures and tucks her phone away. </p><p>“Thanks.” Penelope gives the notebook back, letting her eyes linger on the girl. She gets the sudden, gut feeling that she doesn’t want them to be strangers. “So, what’s your name?”</p><p>“Hope Mikaelson.” The girl says.</p><p>Penelope repeats her name, trying it out in her mouth. “Mikaelson. I like it.”</p><p>Hope’s face flushes pink instantly, her fingers returning to the grass to pick at it absentmindedly. If this were anyone else, Penelope would complain about the environment and how killing grass isn’t okay, but the words get lodged in her throat. She knows she can be a bit unbearable sometimes. She knows that her snark and her general attitude hasn’t gotten her a lot of friends (she now only has MG), and she wants Hope to be her friend. </p><p>“Do you like ramen?” Penelope asks. She feels stupid for asking, but forces herself to deal with the fact that the words are out there. </p><p>“Yeah.” Hope nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her mouth is more red than pink, like she’s been biting at her lips, and when she smiles just a little her cheeks raise into round apples. “Ramen is… it’s good.”</p><p>Penelope thinks Hope is absolutely adorable.</p><p>Penelope stands and so does Hope, mimicking the action in a much more hesitant motion. Hope pulls her bag around her shoulders, pushes her thumbs under the straps, and bounces on her toes like a little kid. </p><p>“Can I buy you some? I assume that was your first class and it’s kind of a tradition.” Penelope hesitates before looping her arm through Hope’s. She feels a lot less tense once Hope starts walking with her. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>The next time Penelope has that class, she remembers to take a moment to smoke the joint she borrowed (stole) from MG, and she joins Hope at the doorway. It’s a lot easier to get past Josie - who looks so wonderful it’s as if Penelope is seeing Christmas three months early - with Hope at her side. It’s like having a tiny, sort of butch readhead as her armor. </p><p>Of course, Penelope doesn’t voice any of this. She’s amazing at pretending, and so she does just that. </p><p>She sends Hope endless amounts of memes and random texts about everything and nothing, and finds that everything is so much lighter when she focuses on Hope instead of Josie.</p><p> </p><p>The first time things go wrong it is a totally normal day, which is why it takes Penelope by complete surprise.</p><p>Penelope is mindlessly chattering on about weed to Hope, who looks more interested than anyone else ever did. “I want to make it more normalized in society. It helps some people, you know? Like, I’ve got terrible anxiety-“</p><p>“You do?” Hope asks. She looks sheepish about interrupting, but curious all the same. </p><p>This is where the problem starts.</p><p>This is where Penelope turns to look at Hope and notes the interested tint in Hope’s eyes, the way her cheeks are dusted pink from just making eye contact with Penelope. All of a sudden, she notices how pretty Hope really is - sees the fair skin, the shiny auburn curls, and the cute, narrow shoulders. Penelope even sees under that, to the nervous energy Hope carries around along with that eagerness to learn about life. </p><p>It’s endearing and so, so adorable.</p><p>It makes Penelope want to break into a monologue pulled straight out of Romeo and Juliet about love. She feels so dramatic about all this that her tongue gets lodged in her throat and she finds herself wondering for the hundredth time why she isn’t a drama major.</p><p>“Yeah.” Penelope says, not loving how breathy her voice comes out. She shrugs to break the tension. “I’m almost constantly high though.”</p><p>“Oh.” Hope replies, not sounding unkind. Just curious, constantly interested in Penelope’s world.</p><p>They reach the spot where they usually leave each other, because Hope must have something to do and Penelope likes to sit in the grass and listen to music.</p><p>“Speaking of weed, there’s a party Saturday.” Penelope tells her. “You should come, it starts after ten. I’ll pick you up if you want to go.”</p><p>She’s not sure if Hope is going to agree. Hope doesn’t really seem like the party type but Penelope doesn’t exactly want to stand around a crowded room getting drunk with MG for another night. He’s great company when he’s sober, but after four or five drinks all he wants to talk about is Lizzie Saltzman and how her height is possibly one of the hottest things ever (which doesn’t even make sense, because Penelope thinks Lizzie looks like the Jolly Green Giant and has said that on multiple occasions). </p><p>Surprisingly, Hope nods. “Sure. That sounds fun.”</p><p>Penelope sets herself down onto the grass and starts to take out her phone. She expects Hope to say goodbye and leave like usual, but Hope stands around for a few awkward seconds before sitting down across from Penelope. Penelope raises her eyebrows, but tries not to appear too affected by Hope sitting with her.</p><p>“Is this what you do after class? Listen to music?” Hope asks, in that same curious tone Penelope is getting used to. </p><p>She gets out her earbuds. “Yeah, pretty much.”</p><p>For a moment, Hope kind of looks like a scared animal, and Penelope wants to do whatever she can to ease whatever fear Hope has, but then Hope softens and scoots closer to her. She keeps on scooting until her side is pressed against Penelope’s. It’s skin on skin and fabric on fabric. Penelope feels the warmth just the same, all along her side, scorching her down to her toes.</p><p>“Can I listen with you?” Hope’s voice is impossibly soft. A little hesitant too, like she expects Penelope to say no. </p><p>Penelope’s heart cracks in several different places. </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>She suddenly feels self conscious about every song she’s ever added to her playlist, but Penelope tries not to panic because she knows that Hope will probably be able to see her hands shake as she scrolls through her music. Eventually Penelope just presses shuffle, feeling better when a song plays that isn’t terribly embarrassing (she’s pretty sure that she has What Does The Fox Say added on here somewhere).</p><p>“Here.” Penelope hands over one of the earbuds to Hope and watches as she puts it in her ear. </p><p>They both lay back on the grass so it’s less awkward. Penelope feels at peace, staring up into the bright whiteness of the sun and listening to the music in her ear. Occasionally Hope will shift just slightly closer to Penelope and their arms will brush, and then the peace will shatter into a million pieces. Penelope will exhale, sounding as if she’s been stabbed (or sounding perfectly quiet - she can’t tell if the ragged gasping is something she’s dreamt up), and then Hope will silently shift away.</p><p>It’s not like Hope is doing it on purpose, but the peace comes and goes. Penelope’s heart rate goes up and down, but when it goes up it skyrockets and gets lost in the sun.</p><p>She has a problem.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a surprise that Penelope ends up at MG’s place later that day, curled up in two of his blankets and taking up a good portion of his couch even though she’s not that tall. He’s her best and only friend, everyone else is just an acquaintance (well, there’s Hope, but Penelope tries not to dwell on that too much). MG is the one who fixes all of her problems, which is probably stupid considering he’s had a crush on Lizzie for forever now and hasn’t been able to get anything out of it. </p><p>Still, he’s doing better than her. He isn’t feeling lost in the world because of a shitty breakup and his apartment is definitely a whole lot cleaner. Seriously, the boy has white curtains with purple flowers on them and cushy white pillows to match. That’s class. </p><p>She always finds herself wondering why no girl has tried to date MG yet.</p><p>“Do you think Lizzie would like lavender or mango lotion better?” He asks, holding up two disturbingly large bottles in front of her face.</p><p>Oh, right. This is why. The Great Lizzie Saltzman Obsession.</p><p>“Ew, mango? What is she going to do, lick you?” Penelope makes a face that only gets more disgusted when she sees the blush on MG’s cheeks over the thought of Lizzie licking him. “Go with the lavender. It smells nice.” </p><p>MG smiles at her and then rushes out of the living room to go put the lotion away. Penelope would ask why he’s doing all of this, but she already has the sneaking suspicion that MG invited Lizzie to this party. Which is fine, because the tables have turned and now Penelope would rather talk to Lizzie than Josie. She’s just not ready to speak to Josie again, at least not if Josie is going to be soaked in booze like she was when Penelope visited. </p><p>She just wants Josie back on her feet. </p><p>“You have that look on your face again.” MG says. If Penelope didn’t know any better, she would have jumped, but she forces her expression to be neutral so MG won’t tease her for it.</p><p>“What look?”</p><p>“That ‘thinking about girls’ look. Well, ‘thinking about Josie’ look. I know you still don’t know if you’re doing the right thing.” MG looks as if he’s about to lecture her. “Going cold turkey is probably hard for the both of you, but…”</p><p>She tunes him out. She can’t help it. Penelope has the sudden urge to yell at him, because he hadn’t been in the car that night at Pride - he hadn’t seen how the constant fighting had turned Josie into a different person, he didn’t know how hard it had been to break up with Josie. Even if she does want Josie back, who’s to say that she won’t just fuck Josie up again? </p><p>The guilt would eat her alive. </p><p>It is eating her alive.</p><p>Sometimes she swears she can feel it, in the dead of the night. Something heavy and evil will crawl through her body, it’ll fill her up with wet cement and glue her to her sheets. The air will leave her lungs, and for a moment Penelope will think that this isn’t another panic attack - it’s death, and it’s guilt biting at her organs, searching for her heart - and then she’ll take one shaky breath and remember she has an anxiety disorder. </p><p>No guilt monster, no cement. Just Penelope, alone in her bed, wondering if she’s the villain in someone else’s story. </p><p>“Actually, I was thinking about Hope.” Penelope interrupts him. She doesn’t like the sly look that creeps along MG’s face, but at least the hand around her throat loosens at the thought of Hope. “I was listening to music with her the other day. Out in the grass, you know where we usually go? She’s very small.”</p><p>MG laughs. “She’s very small?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Penelope confirms. That’s just a fact. Facts are good, because if she strays away from facts she’ll end up saying something like: she’s an angel sent to clear Penelope’s mind of all things evil. </p><p>He finally joins her on the couch (he had been pacing before, rubbing too much lavender lotion into his hands), and sits with his legs crossed. He looks like a child this way, soft around the edges and amazed by life. Penelope has no idea how Lizzie doesn’t love him.</p><p>“Tell me about her.” MG requests, his voice high and excited. Penelope rolls her eyes but sits up anyways, ready to talk.</p><p> </p><p>Come Saturday night, Penelope is driving towards Hope’s apartment building, feeling strange already. She can’t believe Josie and Hope live in the same building. Sometimes, Penelope gets the feeling that there’s more going on between Hope and Josie than she knows about, and them living right near each other isn’t helping her suspicions. </p><p>Her suspicions aren’t even suspicions, really. It’s just a stupid feeling. She’ll be sitting in class, beside Hope as always, and Josie will stare too long in their direction. For a long time, Penelope thought that Josie was just blatantly looking at her, but once or twice Penelope has caught Josie staring and noticed how unfocused her eyes are, how it seemed as if Josie really had her eyes set somewhere else. </p><p>The thought turns her stomach. She isn’t a very jealous person, but Hope and Josie together feels like too much. Her maybe-crush and her ex who she might still have feelings for getting together? Both girls she’s interested in wiped off the playing field? It all sounds like some sort of weird television show where Hope is the hero everyone is in love with, starring Penelope Park as the snarky bully.</p><p>She could actually play a snarky bully pretty well, now that she thinks about it. All she would need is a darker leather jacket and- that isn’t the point.</p><p>The point is, when Penelope pulls up outside the apartment building and sees Hope already waiting for her, she feels so weird that it takes her a surprising amount of time to realize what Hope is wearing. </p><p>“Get in, Mikaelson.” Penelope sticks her head out of the window, trying not to make it too obvious that she’s checking Hope out. </p><p>Usually, Penelope isn’t one to check out a ton of girls. Or maybe she is. She keeps finding out little things about herself that she didn’t know because she spent all of her time with Josie and other girls seemed to pale in comparison. There were maybe one or two crushes she had before they started dating, but nothing substantial. </p><p>She does remember holding a boy’s hand in kindergarten. That had been nice. Of course, she had been five years old and more focused on ice cream than him. </p><p>When Hope gets into the car, Penelope is so surprised by seeing the lack of flannel and baggy clothes up close that her mouth almost pops wide open. Hope is always buried under a hundred different layers, but now she’s sitting in Penelope’s car wearing fucking skinny jeans like that isn’t a total shock to the system. </p><p>“You dressed up.” Penelope says, trying not to sound too pervy. “You look good.”</p><p>The final cherry on top is the shirt. Hope is wearing a tank top with the school’s logo across the front. It would probably be plain on anybody else, but it looks almost too tight on Hope. Penelope gets caught up staring at the flat line of Hope’s stomach through the top and at the spot where Hope’s chest stretches the fabric out. </p><p>She bites her tongue and looks away. It’s hard being coy when she’s so used to being upfront with Josie. </p><p>“Thanks, Pen.” Hope replies. She sounds surprised to have gotten complimented. </p><p>Penelope grins, liking how that nickname sounds. “That’s a dope nickname. I’m a writing utensil.” </p><p>They talk a little bit about how Penelope sounds like a total stoner - which she gets, because the things that tumble out of her mouth when she’s high are insane. She’s not high right now though because she knows she has to drive. The only downside is she feels the full effect of being in an overly hot car with just Hope immediately. The air is stifling and Penelope’s tongue feels thick in her mouth, so she turns the music up and rolls the windows down until the cool air washes away some of her awkwardness.</p><p>Penelope sticks her hand out the window, ignoring the part of her that suddenly reminds her someone could come zooming past and tear off her whole hand. </p><p> </p><p>The plan hadn’t been to get super drunk or high at this party. There hadn’t been a plan at all, except to hangout with Hope and MG and have a good time. Whatever not-plan she had is totally out the window now. </p><p>Honestly, Penelope has no idea where Hope is. She feels shitty about it, but every time she tries to find her she ends up lost. The whole place has turned into a maze. A maze that is spinning so much Penelope feels as if she’s going to throw up at any moment. All she can think about is how Josie had shown up in that dress, and how it had totally thrown her off. </p><p>Maybe she’s a little more unstable than she thought. </p><p>She swear she can see Josie right now, although she’s not sure if it’s actually Josie. There’s a blurry purple haze around Josie’s silhouette that only gets brighter as Josie dances. Either Penelope had one too many pot brownies or Josie is now a superhero that can glow in the dark. Both options are a little scary. </p><p>Penelope starts walking, somehow manages to push through the crowd of people. She just wants to find Hope or MG. She keeps on walking until the crowd seems to box (well, it’s more of a messy circle) her in. All of a sudden it’s just Penelope and Josie, locked into a room together with walls made of people. It feels like a cage match. </p><p>“Can we talk?” Penelope yells over the music. She’s not about to just stand here silently and stare, and besides, when is she ever going to have this much courage again?</p><p>She’s just hoping she’ll remember this talk in the morning. Or not. It might be better to forget the whole night. </p><p>“Only if we’re dancing.” Josie replies. </p><p>Penelope can’t help it, she rolls her eyes. This feels too much like high school, like they’re at prom again and Josie has downed a miniature bottle of vodka. She decides she’ll play by Josie’s rules and steps forward, locking her fingers behind Josie’s neck.</p><p>So.” Penelope leans up on her toes to reach Josie’s ear. “What’s with you and Hope?”</p><p>“I could ask you the same question.”</p><p>Penelope feels her face grow hot. She could blame it on the wave of heat coming from everyone surrounding them, but both her and Josie know better than that. In an effort to hide her face, Penelope dips her head low and just hopes it’s too dark for Josie to even notice her blush.</p><p>“Nothing is happening with Hope and I.” Josie says, saving Penelope from answering the question. “She’s pretty, but we haven’t really talked. There’s nothing to worry about.”</p><p>“Good.” She says, even though she might be exposing herself with that one word. She isn’t sure if she’s glad that Josie isn’t with anyone or if she’s glad that Hope isn’t or both, but she’s still just glad. </p><p>All of it is so confusing right now that she feels as if she might throw up. Penelope isn’t sure how the sober version of herself deals with this. </p><p>“Good?” Josie asks. </p><p>Penelope nods. Her stomach plummets as if it’s on its way to hell and sends venom up her throat. All of a sudden, she feels as if someone has shot her throat with bile. She’s definitely going to throw up. </p><p>She let’s go of Josie immediately and runs off, rushing to get outside. </p><p> </p><p>The first thing Penelope hears when she comes out from behind the bush is Hope’s voice. </p><p>“You’re competitive.” </p><p>Hope’s voice sounds far away and that’s because she is. Penelope sees her, sitting at the curb and leaning entirely too close to Josie. They look like they’re dating. Not like they’re casually hooking up, but like they’re dating. Sure, there’s hunger on Josie’s face and arousal on Hope’s, but there’s also this fondness around the both of them that churns Penelope’s stomach. </p><p>A second ago, Penelope would have said that she definitely threw up everything in her body, but now it seems as if she’s ready for round two.</p><p>Hope and Josie tilt towards each other a bit more. They start to press so close that it’s inevitable that they’re going to kiss. Penelope wants to yell at them to stop, but she has no right to stand between them. It’s just that she feels sick, like she’s watching her house catch on fire in slow motion and she’s tied down and forced to burn. </p><p>Then Hope and Josie close the gap, and Penelope realizes that similes and metaphors are bullshit. She can never remember how to tell them apart, even though she uses them so much. It’s all bullshit. This heaviness in her heart that she blames on other people (and sometimes the universe) when really it was her. Penelope didn’t have to breakup with Josie, she didn’t have to bite her tongue around Hope, she didn’t have to stare and watch them kiss but now that image is stuck in her head forever, and she’ll never get it out and she’ll- </p><p>Penelope falls over, right then and there. She sees the bush in front of her, silently wonders if anyone will be able to find her with how she’s hidden, and then suddenly the world fades to black. </p><p> </p><p>Penelope is ninety percent sure that MG and Lizzie are carrying her body to a car, but she also could be hallucinating because Lizzie once told her that rabid bunnies would fall out of the sky before Lizzie would do a nice thing for Penelope. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>At twenty-one, Penelope had thought she had finally worked herself out. </p><p>She knows the ins and outs of her anxiety, knows that if she dwells too hard on death her throat will close up and her stomach will plummet. Little things stir it up, too. Continuous loud noises, a particularly long glance from a stranger on the street, the wind. Penelope gets a handle on unpredictability pretty quick because of it, which is what led her to believe that the world wouldn’t be able to knock her down with another surprise again. </p><p>Of course, that had been a stupid assumption. Penelope is only barely an adult, she’s not even sure if she could be described as smart, and the universe is the universe. </p><p>It kicks her ass, grips her by the shoulders and dunks her head underwater so she can’t breathe. Every minute with Hope is like that, like Penelope tripped and fell into the ocean and is trying to catch her breath as harsh waves roll over her nose and mouth. The universe screwed her over. Penelope just didn’t think it would do it with someone as small and shy as Hope. </p><p>The day after the party, Penelope is silently cursing the universe as she calls Hope, but it feels useless. She can’t physically hurt the universe, so speaking about it as if it’s an actual person is pointless. Really, Penelope is mad at herself for this - for this little crush, this stupid longing.</p><p>“Hey Mikaelson.” Penelope says once Hope answers, forcing confidence into her voice. She feels like she sounds stupid - she’s never even had a crush before, her romantic life was reduced to Josie and only Josie. “MG told me you hooked up with some girl. I’m proud, I didn’t know you had it in you for a one night stand.”</p><p>If she were a better person she wouldn’t have called at all, but ditching Hope at that party had been pretty crappy of Penelope. Plus, Hope didn’t do anything wrong, even if Penelope got hurt.</p><p>“I didn’t know I did either.” Hope replies. </p><p>Penelope picks at a speck of dust on the floor, trying to distract herself. She’s about two steps away from analyzing Hope’s voice and why it sounds so husky at the moment. That would just be weird and unhealthy, so Penelope opens her mouth and starts talking and doesn’t stop. </p><p>She goes on and on about Lizzie, because it’s easy to complain. Penelope doesn’t even have to think about it. She has a thousand examples of Lizzie being an absolute bitch. What sucks is that Penelope still isn’t sure if Lizzie helped carry her home last night and she also doesn’t know if Lizzie actually has feelings for MG, and so it feels sort of shitty to be insulting Lizzie when Lizzie can’t fight back. </p><p>Somehow, Penelope runs out of bad things to say about Lizzie. </p><p>She digs her nails into the floor. Of course the floor is stronger than her nails and she has to watch them bend until they almost break, but it distracts her from the inevitable best friend question Penelope must ask. </p><p>“So, who’d you hook up with?” Penelope spits out, feeling venom in her throat. She prepares herself to hear all about Josie, but there’s a pause where Hope is just breathing, and then the lies come.</p><p>“I didn’t hook up with anyone.” Hope replies. “We just made out a little. I didn’t know her.”</p><p>“Ooo. A random.” </p><p>This acting thing is getting easier and easier every time Penelope does it. She sounds excited, like a good friend who isn’t emotionally fucked. </p><p>“Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m hungover.” Hope tells Penelope. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll see you. Your vomiting noises aren’t as sexy as you think, you know.”</p><p>As soon as the call ends, Penelope exhales loudly. She wishes she could say she feels some tension leave her body, but it’s all still there. Penelope checks her nails, sees that they’ve splintered at some points. She’s kind of glad about it. At least now she can have something broken that’s easily fixable. </p><p> </p><p>One of the things Penelope hates most in the world is waiting for something bad to happen. Horror movies filled with jump scares are the worst for her, because sitting around with the knowledge that something terrible is coming makes her feel like shit. A lot of the time she wishes that every bad thing would just hit her all at once so she could lay her feet on rock bottom and then never come back again. </p><p>It’s too bad for her, waiting is part of the human experience. She’s been to the DMV. She knows everyone has to suffer in little ways or big. </p><p>This just feels colossal and unfair. Penelope is rational enough to know that everything that happened over the last few weeks has no real consequences. No one saw her watching Hope and Josie kiss, so she doesn’t have to deal with any of that. She’s not dating Josie and she was never dating Hope, nor did she confess her feelings. There’s nothing coming to get her. </p><p>She’s fine. </p><p>She doesn’t feel fine. </p><p>After that call with Hope, Penelope watches something on Netflix and fixes her nails. Fixing her nails becomes trying to clean her whole house and trying to clean her whole house ends up being setting all of the food in her fridge out on the counter, because she just needs direction and she needs to move.</p><p>Her thoughts come in long, rambling sentences. They buzz around her head at a hundred miles per hour and send Penelope bouncing off the walls. </p><p>She can’t breathe. </p><p>All she wishes is that the world would let the panic hit if it’s going to hit and leave if it’s going to leave. This weird limbo of fear is driving Penelope so insane that for a moment when she sits at her desk and googles heart attack symptoms, she wishes that she would just topple over and have one so something could be final. </p><p>It hasn’t been this bad in years. All Penelope can really think about is Josie. Josie used to stick by her side and give her water in the night whenever something like this would happen. </p><p>That thought leads her to get into her car, leaving all of her food defrosting on the kitchen counter and her laptop still opened to heart attack symptoms. Honestly, it might not be a good idea for Penelope to drive considering what’s happening and the lingering hangover she has at the moment, but she’s already behind the wheel.</p><p>Penelope reaches Josie’s apartment building too fast (she must have been speeding) and runs to get to the apartment. She knocks on the door, trying to stop her heavy breathing and get herself under control.</p><p>It takes a moment but Josie finally opens the door. </p><p>Josie was definitely crying. Her face is tinted pink, her cheeks shine with wetness, and her lips are doing that ultra pouty thing that still clenches at Penelope’s heart.</p><p>“Have you been crying?” Penelope asks, even though she knows the answer. Her hands itch with the need to touch Josie but she leaves them at her sides. </p><p>She goes into the apartment and sits down on the couch. Penelope feels a little selfish now, showing up like this, but she decides she’ll fix that by making this about Josie and not herself. </p><p>Josie just stands by the doorway, looking lost. Penelope gently pats the spot on the cushion beside her until Josie joins her. </p><p>Penelope has the full intention to be loving and caring and a great friend to Josie, but she gets a look at Josie’s neck and her tone suddenly comes out predatory. “Are those hickies?” </p><p>Josie shrugs. “It’s not important. I got drunk. It’s nothing serious.” </p><p>Something about Josie in that sweater, looking so oddly young makes Penelope soften. She laughs lightly, thinking that the idea to come over here sort of helped. </p><p>“You’re like a teenager.” Penelope says, meaning no real harm. </p><p>“Yeah, well. It’s none of your business.” Josie snaps.</p><p>Penelope nods, wiping the smile off of her face. “You’re right.” </p><p>They sit silently for a while. If Penelope’s mind were a little kinder than she would go ahead and pretend they’re spending a nice afternoon on the couch together. Unfortunately, her brain is a fucking asshole and all she can focus on is how this part of her life is gone now and she has nothing to do with her future. </p><p>It feels almost like she’s starting all over at twenty-one, which sucks. Birth sounds terrifying. </p><p>What’s even more terrifying is that Penelope thinks she has things (or at least, this one wave of panic) semi under control, but then she exhales. She makes a sound like she’s been stabbed right through the heart and when she tries to get air back in her lungs, tears spring to her eyes. If it were anyone else beside her, Penelope would be embarrassed - but it’s Josie, and Penelope can do nothing more but grasp at the couch and gasp openly for breath.</p><p>Josie comes to kneel between her legs, looking blurry and distant in Penelope’s vision. She can barely hear what Josie is saying, but she knows it’s the standard ‘you can breathe’. She’s heard it a thousand times from Josie, and she tries to focus on that along with the steady rise and fall of Josie’s chest. </p><p>If Josie has air, Penelope must too. </p><p>It takes a moment, but eventually Penelope feels her breathing start to even out and the noises she’s making start to get quieter. </p><p>“You want me to get you some water?” Josie asks and Penelope nods. </p><p>When Josie comes back with the bottle, Penelope starts to drink it little by little. She’s halfway through the bottle when she feels a tiny ice chunk slip into her mouth. Penelope holds the bottle away from herself, inspecting it. </p><p>“Did you know I was coming?” Penelope asks.</p><p>Josie shakes her head and Penelope narrows her eyes, watching Josie kneel down in front of her again.</p><p>“Why’s your water frozen, then?” Penelope shakes the bottle, watching the little chunks roll around. “You hate ice water. You said it makes your throat too cold.”</p><p>“I kind of like it now.” Josie shrugs, obviously lying. </p><p>It’s stupid. It’s really stupid, but Penelope thinks that maybe if Josie has been hoarding ice water for her then maybe Penelope has another shot with her. If she even wants one. She isn’t sure if she wants one. </p><p>Someone knocks on the door and Josie sighs, getting up to go answer it. “That’s probably Lizzie.”</p><p>“I'm gonna go, then.” Penelope follows her.</p><p>“You don’t have to.” Josie says. She sounds unsure but hopeful, and Penelope thinks that if Lizzie wasn’t at the door then maybe she’d stay. “You wanted to talk, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I’m not exactly in the mood to be called Satan by your sister right now.”</p><p>Josie accepts that and nods, walking Penelope over to the door. Penelope swears she can hear Lizzie talking to herself on the other side. She tries to prepare for being met with one of Lizzie’s insults and pulls open the door. </p><p>Instead, there’s Hope. </p><p>Penelope thinks she would have preferred seeing Lizzie in this situation.</p><p>There’s a lot of awkward staring that goes on. Hope is blocking the door and even if she wasn’t, Penelope’s feet have glued themselves to the ground. It’s very odd, all of them standing together like this. It’s only happened once before. Except now, Penelope can’t take her eyes off of Hope even though Hope doesn’t stop staring at Josie. In the corner of her eye, Penelope can see Josie blatantly staring at her like she’s supposed to have all the answers in the universe. </p><p>The realization hits Penelope like a truck. They’re in some weird love triangle now. She thought that only happened in movies, but here she is - crushing on Hope while Hope crushes on Josie while Josie crushes on her. </p><p>“I need a cigarette.” Penelope says. She goes back into the apartment, because she feels some big talk coming along and she doesn’t want to do it outside.</p><p>She can hear the others following right behind her, but she blocks the sound of footsteps out. Penelope pushes open one of the windows and crouches by it. Only when she starts getting out her lighter does Josie speak up. </p><p>“I thought you quit nicotine.” </p><p>“I did.” Penelope replies and lights it anyways, thinking about how they’d said the same words to each other a couple months ago.</p><p>Josie looks a bit confused, but not very shocked. She knows how Penelope deals with conflict, she knows that Penelope will smoke and then she’ll unravel this whole mess. Hope - poor, sweet Hope who looks like she’s been dragged into the lion’s den - clearly isn’t used to any of this. </p><p>“I didn’t know you were gonna be here, Pen.” Hope says eventually. </p><p>Penelope shrugs. “I came to talk to Josie. Why are you here?” </p><p>Hope sheepishly holds up Josie’s purse, looking so shy one would think that someone just asked her to strip. It’s so oddly cute that Penelope imagines getting up and kissing her, but that would make things a million times more weird so she just stares out the window.</p><p>Josie takes the purse and sets it aside, but she doesn’t say anything other than thank you. She keeps looking at Penelope like Penelope’s the leader of whatever this is. Penelope isn’t even sure if she has all of the information of everything that’s been happening between the three of them, because it’s not like she’s been stalking Hope and Josie. Then again, she knows for sure that neither of them know Penelope saw them kissing last night. </p><p>Penelope figures everyone should just set everything on the table and be honest.</p><p>“I know you guys hooked up last night.” She blurts, making sure to keep her cigarette hand hanging a bit out the window. Penelope doesn’t want to make Josie’s furniture smell like crap, even if Josie is looking at her with wide guilty eyes right now. “I saw you guys kissing. To be clear, I was outside throwing up and not being a creep or anything.” </p><p>“We didn’t hook up.” Hope says.</p><p>“Okay, well. You don’t have to lie-“</p><p>“No, really.” Josie cuts in. “We didn’t.” </p><p>The both of them start going back and forth (almost arguing) about everything that’s been happening this school year. It all sounds very childish - Hope knocking and then running away, Josie hooking up with anyone she can get her hands on. Penelope just listens, kind of developing a headache in the process, because this is way more complicated and draining than she initially thought. </p><p>She thinks back on simpler times, when things hadn’t gotten this hard. High school had been sort of fun. People thought she couldn’t be touched because she got a nose piercing for her eighteenth birthday and her tongue doesn’t know how to operate without at least a little bit snark.</p><p>Things are just a mess now. Whatever words Josie and Hope are saying are fading out in her head, but she thinks if she sits here silently long enough she’ll get to hear Hope yell for the first time. </p><p>“You’re both dumb.” Penelope points out. They both stop and look at her. Maybe she really is the leader of all this. “First of all, Hope you should have just talked to Josie. And Josie, you should’ve chilled with the loud sex - respect your neighbors. Also, you just didn’t hook up over that? It was a little misunderstanding.”</p><p>“Well…” Josie drawls in that way that means she knows she’s lost an argument. “Are you okay with us hooking up?” </p><p>If someone could look inside of Penelope’s brain right now they would see a thousand miniature versions of herself running around and kicking each other. She can’t just say she doesn’t want them hooking up. Penelope knows she has no ownership over either of them, plus she isn’t even sure if she wants to end up with Hope or Josie or neither or both. </p><p>Penelope tries to find some way to voice all of this without sounding like a huge asshole. What comes out is probably worse than anything Penelope had been thinking of saying. </p><p>“Just- just don’t do it without me.” What Penelope had meant to say was something along the lines of ‘just don’t leave me behind’, but now it sounds dirty. </p><p>Hope immediately turns red, looking down at the floor. Penelope thinks that Hope has no business being so cute in a situation like this - it’s entirely unfair. She shares a glance with Josie and (because they’re still on the same wavelength) understands that Josie is thinking the same thing, that Hope is far too good for either of them.</p><p>In the back of Penelope’s mind, she can imagine getting up and just making a move. Right in front of her are two mouths that she would kill to kiss, and it would be so easy to break the space between them all. </p><p>Of course, Penelope stays still. She’s a coward and she definitely isn’t going to be the one to start a threesome, especially when she isn’t even sure if Hope or Josie likes her back. Besides, sex would probably make everything more complicated and things are already going to shit. She can see the gears turning in Josie’s mind and Hope’s eyes haven’t left the ground in a solid minute. </p><p>“Okay, fuck it.” Josie says. She walks over to stand right in front of Penelope and holds out her hand. “Gimme.”</p><p>Penelope rolls her eyes but gives Josie the cigarette. “You could say please, you know. Child.”</p><p>“Shut up. You have Spongebob underwear.” </p><p>“And they’re super sexy.” Penelope replies, leaning back so Josie can blow smoke out the window. It’s odd watching Josie smoke, but it’s one of the more normal things to happen today.</p><p>Penelope looks over at Hope, finding her watching the both of them. Hope really has the scared Bambi look down, but something about her gives Penelope the idea that Hope is a little more aggressive than she seems. Penelope waves her over and smiles when Hope is at her side in an instant, looking very curious about this whole situation.</p><p>“I’ve never smoked before.” Hope admits. </p><p>Penelope and Josie share a quick glance. </p><p>“I could show you, if you want.” Penelope says. “Though, if I was going to corrupt you I’d probably start with pot brownies.” </p><p>Penelope taps Josie’s shoulder and Josie hands the cigarette back. It’s a lot shorter now, but it’ll do. She talks Hope through the process. When Hope first does it, she coughs and Penelope and Josie both reach out to run their hands along her shoulders in a soothing motion. </p><p>It takes a minute, but eventually Hope gets it down. She actually kind of looks good doing it, with her head tilted back slightly and the pale column of her neck exposed. Her lips are really fucking pretty too, pink as a rose and still plump even as she forms them into that little circle around the cigarette. </p><p>Oh, fuck. Penelope really wants to kiss her. </p><p>She looks over and finds Josie in a similar state. Flushed, looking for too long at Hope’s lips. It takes a moment of Penelope staring to get Josie’s attention, and once they realizing what they’re both doing they pull their hands off of Hope like they’ve been burned. </p><p>“I’m sorry for kissing your ex.” Hope tells Penelope, and then looks at Josie. “And for the knocking.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, too. For everything.” Josie chimes in. She tosses the cigarette stub out the window.</p><p>Both Hope and Josie look expectantly at Penelope, who sits there silently. </p><p>“I forgive you both. Littering is bad, though. What if that hit someone?” Penelope shrugs when Josie death glares her. “What? I didn’t do anything.” </p><p>It’s true. Penelope didn’t kiss anyone she wasn’t supposed to kiss or participate in any of this ding dong ditch bullshit. She has nothing to apologize for, except maybe breaking up with Josie - but that was months ago, and a lame apology now feels weird. </p><p>“So… I guess I should leave, then.” Hope says uncertainly. </p><p>“No, you don’t have to.” Josie pipes up. “You too, Penny. Let’s… I don’t know, do something fun.”</p><p>It feels horribly awkward, so Penelope makes the Pornhub opening sound and laughs when both Hope and Josie shove her.</p><p>“I’m sorry, it’s just ‘let’s do something fun’ sounds like the opening to some bad lesbian porn.” Penelope tucks away her grin when it looks as if Josie is going to hit her again. “Fine. Pick a movie or something - though keep in mind, porn would’ve been more interesting.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok, some things I want to touch on because of the comments: </p><p>1. Idk what ship will be endgame in this fic. Like the tags say, all ships are present in the story and may end up together. </p><p>2. No is meant to be ‘the bad guy’ in this fic, they’re all just very stupid and trying their best. This isn’t going to be the fic where Hope, Josie, or Penelope is a total ass just to make someone else look good. </p><p>3. Not every chapter will be super dark or super light. Hope’s chapter was fun and light cause she’s a clueless college student going through her first few classes. Josie’s chapter was dark because she got dumped and didn’t handle it well. There’s going to be both fluff and angst in this fic, cause each character has a lot of different emotions.</p><p>4. If you’re here, I’m glad you’re reading and appreciate you very much :D</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It’s my baby, this fic has become my baby.</p><p>Come talk to me on Twitter/Tumblr @thatoneurchin</p></blockquote></div></div>
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